


Enigma Wrapped in a Riddle

by JellyfishOnACloud



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Befriending a tiny dark lord, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Pre-emptive redemption, Slow Burn, Time Travel, Unflattering depictions of orphanages during the great depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-01-22 22:49:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21309898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JellyfishOnACloud/pseuds/JellyfishOnACloud
Summary: His eyes were like ice, how could such a small child have eyes so cold? But this wasn't just any child. Ginny knew this boy down to her bones, he haunted her nightmares even now. Tom Riddle.
Relationships: Tom Riddle & Ginny Weasley, Tom Riddle/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 95
Kudos: 195





	1. Chapter 1

The Stunner hit her square in the chest and she fell backwards, falling for an age straight through that creepy Veil. She hadn’t been able to hear the whispering that Harry could before, but she could now, hundreds of voices clamouring over each other but she couldn't make out what any of them were saying.

"Stop making such a fuss, girl," a woman's voice said harshly, gripping Ginny's arm tightly and marching her along.

Ginny blinked, looking around and scrunching her nose at the overwhelming musty smell. She was in a small office of some sort, a curt looking woman was standing behind an old wooden desk stacked high with papers. The woman gripping her arm reminded Ginny of her mother, but without any of the warmth.

Her wrist was no longer broken. Her own hands were _tiny_, like she was a small child again. She swallowed, her heart pounding against her chest. She struggled against the hand that was starting to cut circulation off her upper arm.

"Name?" asked the woman behind the desk, squinting at her like she was some sort of odd insect.

"Virginia Griffiths," said the woman holding her.

Ginny finally managed to snatch her way out of the woman's grip and raced to the door. She didn't know where the hell she was, but she needed out _now_. Where was Harry?

"Bit of a handful, is she? Not to worry, we'll straighten that out. Sarah!"

Ginny ran through the cold stone hallway, looking for a way out. Door after door lined the hall, all numbered like they were cells or something.

A tall girl grabbed her around the waist, picking her up, "Hey now, where are you going?"

Ginny squawked in indignation. "Put me down!"

"No, because you'll keep running," the girl said, carrying her back the way she'd come, "I'm Sarah, and this is Wools Orphanage. You're Virginia, yeah? I'm sorry your mum's giving you up, Matron says it's because she can't afford to feed you any longer. Most of the kids here were given up because of that, but usually its when they're babies."

Sarah kept talking, and Ginny gave up the struggle, letting herself be carried all the way to what was apparently going to be her room.

"You're gonna be bunking with Tom, normally we give single rooms but we're running out of space. Tom's an odd kid, likes to be alone, doesn't get along with anyone. Just tell me if you have problems with him and I'll see if you can bunk somewhere else, but you should be alright."

The young woman put her down, holding onto her shoulder to be sure Ginny didn't immediately bolt. Good thing too, cause she was gonna.

The door opened onto a small bare room with two tiny ancient beds jammed against either wall and a single rickety closet in the corner. Sitting in the middle of the room with a tattered book in his hands was a boy, he stood and turned to face them before the door even swung all the way open.

He was tall for his age, and pale, with dark hair. His posture was regal. His eyes were like ice.

Ginny gasped. She knew those eyes anywhere, she'd seen them in her nightmares for two years. Riddle. He was just a little kid, but there was no mistaking him.

"Tom, this is your new bunk-mate, Virginia."

"Ginny," she corrected automatically. She didn't know who the hell this 'Virginia' was but she wasn't going to go by a name that wasn't hers.

He stared at her, those frozen eyes sending shivers down her spine.

"I'm Tom Riddle," he said.

Ginny stared back, trying to hold in a glare that honestly wasn't warranted. This wasn't the same person who lied and tormented and betrayed her, who tried to steal her very life force. This was just some creepy kid who didn't know his face was supposed to actually emote.

"I don't want to see this one stuck in a tree this time, got it?" said Sarah, hands on her hips.

"We don't always get what we want, Sarah," Tom said, his face eerily blank and his tone almost amused.

Ginny felt something in her snap. She'd gone through too much shit today already. "I'm not some pet you can talk about like I'm not here, and I'm not gonna be scared up a tree by some baby-faced snot bubble!"

Tom whirled at her, eyes blazing. "What did you call me?"

"No fighting, you two, or I'll call the Matron and she'll get the cane," said Sarah. No one was listening to her.

"I'll call you what I like if you're the kind of person who scares kids so bad they have to climb to get away from you!"

"You only just got here! You don't know me and you don't know them, so how dare you think you have the right to call names when I've done nothing to you!"

"Yet," Ginny spat, "Done nothing yet."

"At this rate it's going to be real soon."

Ginny smirked, "Told you."

Tom turned to Sarah, who was flexing her hands anxiously by the door, "I don't want to be in the same room as this brat."

Sarah let out a nervous giggle, "Well that's a first I suppose," she frowned, "Actually, can I talk to you for a moment, Tom?"

Tom frowned and glared at Ginny for a moment, before nodding and following Sarah out the door.

Ginny ran over and pressed her ear against the door. She didn't want to let the little psychopath out of eye-shot -or earshot- for a moment. She didn't want to be sleeping in the same room as him either.

The door muffled voices quite well, but she could still, just, make out what they were saying.

"...easy on her, Tom. Her mum's just... older than you were... having a hard time."

"Why should... care? ...mean to me... just like everyone else!"

Ginny frowned at that, it was true. She'd been quite rude to him when she'd never actually met him before, not this one anyway. It _was_ the same person, he just hadn't actually done the crime yet. But did that make it okay? He was what, six? He'd been in his late teens when he'd hurt her. That was a decade before he'd be that person.

This was all too complicated, too much. She just wanted to go home. How did she even get here? Did the Veil take her somewhere? Some-when? Was she just dreaming? Was she dead? Were her friends even still alive? They'd been in trouble when she'd gotten hit by that stunner.

Oh Merlin, who even knew what that brain had done to her brother, and Luna and Hermione were both unconscious or maybe dead. But, the Order had just arrived, so surely they would rescue them all. They probably all thought her dead after she fell through that archway.

If it was the Veil that took her here, maybe it would take her back. She didn't want to live this 'Virginia's life. She stared at her hands again. Was she in another person? Her hands looked like they had when she'd been this little, but that was a long time ago. She needed to see her face to know for sure.

"I'll talk to the Matron. Try not to kill each other while I'm gone please," Sarah said as the door opened and Tom walked back inside.

Ginny watched Tom as he picked up his book, sat on his bed, and started reading again, ignoring her completely. It didn't look like the kind of picture book that she had been reading when she was that little. Well, she knew he was clever so it really shouldn't be surprising.

She was just distracting herself, apologising was never her strong suit, especially when she still felt a bit justified.

"Tom?"

He turned the page.

"Tom, I'm sorry. You're right, I don't know you and I had no right to start yelling at you and being rude. I'm sorry. I have no real excuse."

He looked up at her. The expression on his face was... odd. Like she was a puzzle he needed to solve.

"What?" she asked, trying not to squirm.

"You don't talk like other kids. You talk more like a grown-up."

Well, that would be because she was fourteen, not six. "Do I? That's pretty neat," she said, trying to make her speech more childlike and play it cool.

He stared at her for a moment longer, then walked over to her and shoved his book in her face. "Read this, out loud."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

She opened to the first page, unsure if she should read properly or not, "One thing was certain, that the white kitten had had nothing to do with it- it was the black kitten's fault entirely."

He snatched the book back before she could continue, his eyes wide and emotions warring on his face. "You're like me."

She blinked in confusion.

He frowned, "That's not fair at all, _I'm_ supposed to be the special one! Then you had to go and be smart too, it's not fair!"

She backed up in alarm. She shouldn't have read properly. She was no Hermione, she was just way older than she looked, not that she could tell him that, if it would help at all. But the building tantrum deflated almost as soon as it started, the pendulum on his emotions swinging the other way like a manic bludger.

He smiled at her, a small, mad, quirk of his lips that looked all wrong on his face. "Lets start over. I'm Tom Riddle, it's nice to meet you, Ginny. Want to be friends?"


	2. Chapter 2

Ginny sat on the bed pondering her circumstances. She’d awoken awhile ago, but it was still very early, the sun just barely peeking over the horizon. Tom was already up too, but he was keeping to himself this morning. So far he hadn’t attempted to stab her and she was taking that as a win.

She had no idea how old Tom Riddle had been when he put a piece of himself in that diary, and she had no idea how old the diary actually was. She didn’t really know much about architecture or clothing styles, and she’d yet to see a newspaper. Basically speaking, she had no idea _when_ she was, but she _did_ know that she was in the past. She also had no idea _where_ she was. Probably still somewhere in London, just because you expect orphanages in cities and she’d been in London when she… died? Travelled? Whatever she did.

She was still unsure what, or who’s, body she was inhabiting. Whoever Virginia was before Ginny got to her, she’d had a mother, a mother who just chose to give her up. She couldn’t imagine her own mother doing that under any circumstances, and there had been many times that her family was too poor to put proper food on the table, but they’d always had each other.

Merlin, she hoped Ron was alright. Mum would have conniptions if both of her youngest were gone in one day, especially since they shouldn’t have been in the Ministry at all. She wished there was a way to let her know she was alright.

Maybe if the Veil got her here it could get her back. There was only one way to find out, really. She’d have to go back to it and try again. Actually, that was probably a bit rash since she didn’t actually know what the damn thing _did_. She should look up about the Veil, and _then_ try and go back through it.

She nodded to herself, feeling more secure now that she had a plan. First thing’s first, actually get a look at herself. She needed a mirror.

She looked over at Tom, who was on the floor drawing snakes and scribble monsters in the two colours of crayon he owned.

“Tom, where’s the bathroom?”

He looked up at her impassively. “It’s down the hall. I’ll show you.”

Considering that the bathroom was communal, it was pretty small. Four stalls lined the left and right walls, and two sinks were crammed against the back, cups filled with toothbrushes sitting on top of what remained of the counter. More importantly, there were mirrors.

Ginny gasped in shock as she looked in the mirror. She had a small round face, pale and peppered with freckles, her eyes were big and brown, and her hair was long and fire-red. She looked exactly like herself. She wasn’t inhabiting anyone, this was her own body, just eight years younger. What the hell?

Tom stood next to her, staring as he brushed his teeth. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, toothbrush still in his mouth.

She glared at him. “Nothing! I’ve just, never seen myself in a mirror before.”

He raised his eyebrows dubiously, but didn’t respond. She wasn’t surprised. She wouldn’t believe her either, even if it was technically true.

* * *

After an hour Ginny had migrated to the floor, not next to per say, but near Tom to draw as well. She was bored. She was never very good at drawing, so she expected her ‘art’ wasn’t really that much better than it would have been at her actual six anyway.

She was trying to draw her house. Every five minutes or so Tom demanded whichever crayon Ginny was currently using and they’d switch. It was very annoying, but also weirdly funny.

“Ginny,” Tom said, apropos of nothing, “Have you ever run away from home before?”

She looked up from her drawing, frowning, “No, I haven’t. Why?”

“Not even with a mother that gave you up like that? She must have been terrible to live with.”

Ginny put down her crayon. Telling the truth was out of the question. Wasn’t it? Did it actually hurt anything if she was thought of as a crazy person? It wasn’t like Tom would believe her, at the moment he was just a kid who didn’t know magic even existed. Hopefully she’d be going home soon anyway and it wouldn’t matter.

But she knew him. She knew that he’d been considered crazy himself while he was here. She also knew that he’d take anything she said and use it against her. Eugh, why was everything so complicated?

She threw herself backwards onto the floor dramatically. “I dunno. I don’t know what to think anymore. Why do you want to know anyway?”

“I don’t like it here, but I don’t have anywhere to go,” Tom said, still drawing, “If you’d run away before, you’d know how to do it again, and we could leave.”

Ginny grinned, “Is that why you asked to be friends?”

He glanced at her, something approaching amusement in his eyes, and didn’t answer.

She snorted. “You never change,” she said, fear and fondness getting all mixed up.

The thing was, before he was draining the life from her in the Chamber, before he even mind-controlled her into attacking people with a Basilisk, he was just a friend. A strange friend inside a diary, admittedly, but a friend nonetheless. That was why it hurt quite so much.

Tom frowned at her, “What?”

“What, what?”

“You said, ’You never change’, what does that mean? You met me yesterday.”

“I said ‘you’ll’, the way you said it makes no sense.” she said, sitting up.

“That way makes no sense either.”

“I’m six, I’m allowed to make no sense.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“Oh yeah?” she stuck her tongue out at him.

Tom frowned at her, working his way into another unreasonable huff.

The door slammed open, and Tom turned his burgeoning glare to the intruder. It was a young woman with a long brown plait and a terribly nervous disposition. Poor thing looked like she was going to have a heart attack just from Tom’s evil-eye.

“What?” he demanded of the newcomer.

“I-I’ve been sent to wake everyone. Breakfast’s soon,” she said.

Tom said nothing, continuing to stare with those icy eyes of his.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Ginny piped in, “We’ll be there soon.”

The girl nodded and hurried away.

She turned back to Tom. “You don’t need to be rude, you know. Being nice is actually pretty helpful.”

“I don’t care. They don’t like me and I don’t like them, why should I be ‘nice’?” he said, actually making finger quotes in the air.

Ginny shrugged and stood up. Telling the burgeoning sociopath to turn up the charm so he could get his own way wasn’t the brightest idea. At least if he stayed creepy everyone could see what he was.

“If you’re nice to other people they’ll probably be nice to you back.”

“They started it!” he sneered.

“I’m not saying you should take it when people are nasty, I’m saying glaring at people cause they walked in the door isn’t a good way to make friends.”

Tom grumbled at that, but he didn’t argue the point.

* * *

Ginny wanted to get to Florish and Blotts to see what books they had that mentioned the Veil of Death, but there was a significant problem with that. She was six. Actually there were three problems; she was six years old, stuck in an orphanage, in Merlin knew what time period but it was certainly several decades in the past.

Worse yet, she’d been here all of a week and she knew down to the bottom of her soul that this place _sucked_. It was cold, drafty, dusty, damp, and the Matron was mean.

Everything was scheduled, meals, chores, free-time, bed-time, wake-time, and sure, she was used to organisation in a household (that was really the only way to wrangle seven rowdy children) but this was unbearable.

Even the other kids were annoying. Although that one might have been the fact that the other kids ranged from five to twelve and she was, up until three days ago that is, a nice teenaged fourteen and thus too old to want to play pretend with a bunch of small children.

Thankfully, Tom felt the same way. That was a strange feeling too, being grateful for Tom’s company.

He was rude, blunt, moody, and entitled, but despite all that it was so easy for her to forgive him, to forget. Because without any of the charm and lies and manipulation he slathered on when he was older, it was just him.

It was his honesty that made it so easy for her to trust him.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.


	3. Chapter 3

Tom didn’t really _like_ Ginny. As a rule, Tom didn’t like anyone. The closest he’d come was Sarah, the only Maid here who wasn’t mean and snappy and demanding, or completely scared of him.

But, Ginny was like him, she was quick and clever and _different_. Special. He didn’t seek out her company, he didn’t seek out anyone’s company, no one wanted him so he didn’t want anyone. But when she was there, he didn’t mind, not at all.

She found the others as irritating as he did, and she wasn’t scared of him at all. Not even when he started snapping and glaring and getting angry about things that, looking back, he really shouldn’t have.

She pulled him up when he went too far but she didn’t make him feel bad about it. She didn’t really seek him out, but she _never_ avoided him.

She was the closest thing he had to a friend.

So when he woke up one morning and she was missing, he went looking for her.

No one else should have been up at this hour, the sun was barely awake. He’d always woken up at dawn, and it seemed like she did too, because she always woke up just after him.

He wandered the gloomy halls, quietly poking his head in the dusty rooms looking for a now familiar head of fire-red hair.

By the time an hour had passed, he was getting worried. What if something had happened to her? What if she’d run away without him?

He heard a muffled sob from behind a stack of wooden crates in an old storage room.

It was Ginny, squashed in a corner and curled into a tight ball, crying quietly.

A well of confused emotions jumbled up in Tom’s chest. Why was _she_ allowed to cry? Maybe she wasn’t and that’s why she was hiding. He didn’t let himself show weakness like this, he didn’t think that this firebrand would either. He guessed he was wrong.

But… she was hiding. Maybe she didn’t like the weakness either, and didn’t want anyone to see. He should just leave, he knew she was safe, he shouldn’t be here to watch this.

She noticed him. She jumped and flattened herself against the wall, wiping at her eyes and trying to hide the fact that she was crying.

“Oh, hi Tom. I didn’t see you. What are you doing up?”

“I’m always up this early. You know that.”

She huffed, a small smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. It was gone a second later, “How about, what are you doing here? In this room?”

“You were missing.”

“Aww, Tom, I didn’t know you cared,” she said, her tone teasing. She wiped at her eyes again. They were red and blotchy.

“I-”, he cut himself off. _I don’t, _he was about to say. Except he wasn’t sure that was true. It had been true, but, he wanted to see where she’d gone. He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted her to stop crying. Didn’t those things mean he _did_ care?

“I was worried you’d run away and left me here.”

She didn’t say anything, just looked at him. The sad expression was creeping back onto her face. He didn’t know what to do to fix that, no one had taught him how, or been there for him when _he_ cried. But, if they had been, he’d want…

“Why were you crying? Are you alright?”

She hesitated, like she was picking her words carefully, “I miss my family. I want to go home.”

Tom frowned, “You want to go back to that nasty woman who left you here?”

Why on earth would anyone want to go back to a place that abandoned you happily? When he got out of this terrible excuse for a children’s home he was never looking back.

She shook her head. “She’s not my real mum. My mum’s lovely and would never give me up. My dad’s kind and clever, and I have six brothers all older than me. But… I don’t think I’ll ever see them again. I don’t even know if Ron’s alive.”

Tears were running down her face again. She sniffed, “I’m sorry, you don’t want to hear this. I’ll be fine.”

Tom paused. He didn’t really want to hear it, it meant nothing to him. But what she was saying was confusing, and that made him curious. And… it meant something to _her_.

He sat on the floor across from her. “Why don’t you know if Ron’s alive? How did that woman claim you if she’s not your mother?”

Ginny looked at him for a moment, an odd expression crossing her face.

“There was an attack. I don’t know what happened to the rest of my family. The last I know, Ron, he’s the youngest apart from me, was unconscious and hurt really badly. That woman took me in after my parents went missing.”

Once the words started flowing, they didn’t stop. She talked about her family in detail, her prankster twin brothers, how another brother always had his nose in a book, and her father tinkered with machines. She talked about her big, odd, slanted house that was half held up with magic and hope, and the garden filled with overgrown plants and pests you had to throw out by their ankles.

He wasn’t sure how much was real and how much was just imagination, but it all sounded so warm.

“I don’t know anything about my family,” Tom said, “I don’t think I have one.”

Before he could blink, thin freckled arms were wrapped around him and Ginny’s head was buried in his shoulder. Tom froze for a second, not sure what to do. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been hugged before. He found himself leaning into her touch and wrapped his arms around her too, melting into her hold and unwilling to let go.

“Lets go up to the Matron. She’s bound to know who your parents were and what happened to them,” Ginny said, pulling back.

She stood and held out her hand. He took it and let her pull him up. He didn’t let go. Ginny looked at him, surprised, but made no move to take her hand back.

Holding hands the whole way, Ginny marched them up to the Matron’s office and banged on the door.

“I’m on my way,” the Matron groaned. The door swung open, “This better be important.”

“What happened to Tom’s parents?” Ginny all but demanded.

“This couldn’t wait until a decent hour, girl?”

“Please?”

The Matron looked at Tom and sighed.

“Your mother showed up on our doorstep, terribly sick and very pregnant with you.”

“What’s pregnant?” Tom asked.

“When there’s a baby in mummy’s tummy,” said Ginny.

“Well, how did it get there?” Tom insisted.

“This isn’t about where babies come from,” snapped the Matron, “Did you want to know what happened to your mother or not?”

He shut up.

“She had you on the steps here and lived just long enough to name you Tom, after your father, Marvollo, after her father, and Riddle, your fathers last name. We don’t know who she was or who your father is,” she turned to Ginny, “There, girl. Is that what you wanted him to know?”

Ginny said something, but Tom had stopped listening. His father was still a mystery and his mother was dead. Stayed alive only long enough to name him. He felt something coil tight in his chest and he was shaking. He turned and ran.

* * *

Ginny wandered the halls, searching for where Tom had run off to. She wasn’t in a hurry, she knew he needed time to process that horrible story.

She hadn’t meant it to end like that, she’d wanted to help, to offer some semblance of belonging in a world where he had none.

The way he’d clung to her when she hugged him, like he’d never had a hug in his life… it was terrible, to imagine a life where someone could feel like that.

She didn’t feel guilty, he had to learn it sometime, although later might have been better than sooner, in the end what difference did it make? Alright, she did feel a little guilty. She’d led him up there, gave him comfort, held his hand, gave him hope, and the crushed it miserably. Maybe she could help find his father, at least to provide some closure before she left.

It would be a long time before she could go back though. To even get into Diagon Alley she needed a wand, so that would have to wait until she was 11. Unless she could talk someone in the Leaky Cauldron into it.

She could try to go straight to the Ministry of Magic, see if she could find the Veil again, or even just ask about it. But it was a bad idea, she didn’t even know what it actually did. Even if she did, she couldn’t remember where that phonebooth was, or the number Harry had dialled to get in, they’d been in such a hurry, and with all six of them crammed into the booth she wasn’t sure she had actually seen the dial-pad.

Harry… was he alright? The Order had just been arriving when she’d fallen. Surely they’d have rescued her friends. Surely they’d have fixed whatever was wrong with Ron. Neville’s nose was surely fixed by now, and Luna’s ankle. Hermione was unconscious, but she’d have been taken to Saint Mungo’s in no time after Dumbledore arrived.

Would time that passed here also pass in her time? If she took too long, would all her friends and family have marked her as dead and moved on?

These kind of morbid thoughts, along with just so much longing for _home_, were what caused her to be a sobbing wreck not an hour before. She had been surprised that Tom would go to the trouble of looking for her, and shocked that he took the time to try to comfort her. Perhaps, in his own strange, stilted way, he really did think of her as a friend. It was more than natural for her to return that favour.

Ginny eventually found him in the courtyard, sitting on the cobblestone ground with his back against the ancient brick of main building, staring off into the distance.

“Hi Tom,” she said gently, moving to sit next to him.

He glanced at her, then looked back off into the distance. Ginny waited, hoping he’d say something she could take as a ‘stay’ or ‘leave’, but after a minute of just standing there it was pretty clear he wasn’t going to say anything. It was hard for her to get mad, though, when he looked so lost.

She sat next to him.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked after a few moments.

He shook his head.

They sat quietly for a bit longer.

“I hoped that I still had someone who wanted me. I knew I wouldn’t be here if there was, but I still hoped. Stupid.”

“Wanting to be loved isn’t stupid, Tom.”

He looked at her, “Isn’t it? Your mum left you here all alone because you were too much to worry about. My mum didn’t even stay alive for me. It hurts, so isn’t it better not to hope? That way you’re never let down.”

Ginny’s heart clenched for him. Is this what he went through the first time? Could this be a part of what made him a monster? If it was, then maybe… Maybe she could do something about it. She was stuck here, probably for years and who knew if she’d ever get home. But until she did, she could help. She could start to heal this wound before it rotted his soul.

“I’m here,” she said, simply, placing her hand on his.

He looked at her, that sad, lost look still in his eyes, and threaded his fingers with hers.


	4. Chapter 4

In December, seven months after Ginny had arrived, the temperature plummeted.

Cloudcover was heavy, and even what little sunshine broke through was killed quickly by a blanket of freezing fog.

The ancient brick walls and rickety roofing did very little to keep out the chill. Icy drafts blew through the halls all day and night.

To make matters worse, Ginny had learned exactly _when_ she was. 1933. Right in the middle of the Great Depression.

It wasn’t all bad. Everyone had a thin, patchy jacket. The youngest kids, which thankfully included her and Tom, had fingerless wool gloves. Meals were always hot. Porridge, soups, and stews made of Merlin knew what, but they kept them warm.

It seemed unlikely that anyone would die of the cold. But, Ginny thought as she curled tighter under her blankets in the frigid night, trying to stop her teeth from chattering, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t get frostbite.

She peeked out from under the covers, looking out into the dark room. It seemed much more intimidating in the dark, and she was glad that the doors of the little closet in the corner were closed.

She hadn’t feared monsters for years, but the wind whistling through the cracks in the walls was starting to get to her. In his bed against the other wall, Tom was similarly curled up tight under his blanket.

Ginny wondered if he was having trouble sleeping from the cold too.

"Tom, are you awake?" she whispered out into the dark.

"Yes," he whispered back after a moment.

Ginny hesitated. "I'm cold."

"Me too."

She knew what she wanted to say next, but it seemed improper. Honestly they were kids, its not like it was weird, and if she didn't ask she might well get frostbite, they both might. But... he still scared her. They were friends, but like this, in the dark, it was hard to forget the cold darkness of the Chamber as this very boy drained the life out of her.

A face appeared above her suddenly. She gasped, moving to duck under the covers, for all the good it would do.

“Move over,” Tom said bluntly.

Ginny blinked, his features becoming apparent in the darkness. He hopped under the covers next to her. It was already warmer.

She was still staring at him.

"What? We're both cold," Tom said, defensive but making no move to leave. He was shivering, then again, so was she.

She laughed gently, more a few gentle huffs of air than anything, "I was gonna ask if I could come over there."

He said nothing, eyeing her. Then he closed his eyes and settled into the pillow.

He was so close she could make out his features even in the dark. His face was small, his cheeks still a touch round with baby-fat, and relaxed like this he looked peaceful, the coldness and wariness he usually wore nowhere to be found.

She hoped that one day he’d look this peaceful even when awake.

Slowly, she warmed up, and then she fell asleep.

* * *

It became routine, over the cold winter months, for them to sleep in the same bed. It was for warmth, they both insisted, and at first it was. But, after a while, it became a comfort.

Ginny couldn’t be certain that Tom felt the same way, he was an odd boy, but all things considered it seemed that he got _something_ other than just warmth out of it. Perhaps a feeling that he wasn’t quite so alone any longer.

Ginny woke up to Sarah standing in the middle of the room staring at them and frowning, one hand on her chin the other folded over her chest.

Before she could even say anything, Tom sat up behind her. “What do you want?” he snapped.

Sarah squeaked and rubbed at her chest. She collected herself quickly, “Look I get that its cold, right? And I don’t blame you for sleeping in the same bed. But you best not let anyone else catch you at it, its improper.”

“What do I care about that?” grumbled Tom.

“Cause you’ll be the one getting a smack out of it.”

“What?” Ginny cried, “Why?”

“Cause its disrespectful for a boy to sleep in a bed next to a girl isn’t his wife. You’re little now, but you keep this up when you’re older and there’ll be rumours and jeering, people accusing you of all sorts of nasty things.”

Tom sneered but said nothing.

“We’ll be careful then. Its too bloody freezing by ourselves,” Ginny declared.

“Watch your language, Virginia. But that seems alright then. Breakfast will be soon.”

* * *

Sarah was wrong of course, at least a bit. They might have been little, but bullying always started early. It didn’t matter that all they knew was that Tom and Ginny only kept to themselves, that was more than enough.

“Oh look!” shouted Marcus, a big boy of about eight, “It’s widdle Tommy and his girlfriend.”

About five kids were closing in on them, surrounding them to try and pin them against the wall.

"Shoulda figured it'd be a _ginger_ hanging about with Creepy," said a girl with long lank hair and a snarl that could put a pitbull to shame.

Tom grabbed Ginny’s hand and bolted. They ran down the corridors, taking random turns as the kids yelled after them, hot on their heels. Rounding a corner, Tom opened a door and pulled Ginny in, closing the door behind them.

The room looked very similar to their own bedroom, but the beds were unmade and a few scuffed toys and half-done drawings lay on the floor.

Tom picked up a few of the cooler looking toys.

“What are you doing?” Ginny whispered, keeping an eye on the door.

Tom looked up at her, “I’m taking these.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, “Yes. But why? Who’s room are we even in?”

He grinned, “Marcus’.”

* * *

After they’d managed to sneak back to their own room, Tom stowed away his stolen hoard in the little treasure box he kept in the closet.

“Do you steal things often?” Ginny asked, keeping her voice neutral as thoughts of Luna surfaced.

“I’m not a thief! How else am I supposed to get back at Marcus, you know how big he is.”

“You could tell Sarah.”

“And Sarah would tell the Matron and the Matron wouldn’t care. Or worse, she’d punish us all for being involved.”

He had a point. In this place, the only adults available were really unreliable. Surely that was illegal?

Ginny had spent her life always able to just tell a grown-up when something was wrong, her parents, her teachers, her neighbours.

Well, except for _the incident_. But then she hadn’t known anything was wrong until it was far too late and she by then would have been thrown in Azkaban for petrifying all those students!

She closed her eyes and counted to ten, trying to relax through all the horrible memories. She’d thought of that time more in the past six months she’d been stuck in the past than she had in years. Probably because of Tom.

She opened her eyes to see the boy in question staring at her curiously.

He was getting better at emoting since they’d become friends. Or maybe she was just getting better at reading them.

She looked over at that little closet that held all their worldly belongings. That is, a few drawings, some clothes, and some stolen toys.

“When’s your birthday, Tom?” she asked, a thought forming.

“New Year's Eve.

Ginny smiled, “I’ll get you a present.”

“I’d like a present, thank you. I- I haven’t had one before.”

“Then I’ll be happy to give you your first.”

“Um-”

That made Ginny pause. Not once had she heard Tom verbally hesitate like that.

“When is your birthday?” he asked, his face once more impassive but his hands fidgeting at his sides.

“Mine was in August,” she said.

“You were here in August,” he muttered under his breath to himself. He hurried over to the closet and started rifling through the treasure box.

“Here,” he handed her a little stitched doll, probably stolen from one of the other kids.

It had buttons for eyes, orange wool for hair, and a little blue felt dress. She ran her hand over it.

“A late birthday present. I hope you like it.”

“Thank you, Tom. I love it,” she said, smiling and clutching the little doll to her chest.

Tom beamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor edit: I got the birth and death dates mixed around. Fixed now. Don't write and post at 2am folks.


	5. Chapter 5

Finding a present to get for Tom was more difficult Ginny had expected, and way harder than just saying that she was going to get him one. His birthday was a little under a month away, and she was a broke seven year old in an orphanage. How was she going to scrape together the funds to actually buy anything?

She was going to have to ask for help, Weasleys didn’t like accepting charity from anyone, but she didn’t have any other options. She’d have to ask Sarah, and pay her back later.

Aside from the money, she had no idea what to get him. What would a kid like Tom even want? He barely played with the toys he had, she couldn’t imagine he’d want action figures or anything. He drew, but just getting him some crayons seemed so lacklustre, it wasn’t like he considered himself an artist or anything.

But, he was very clever, and he prided himself on being clever. In that way, he was a little like Hermione.

Maybe she could get him a book. He spent a lot of time reading, it was probably the closest thing to a favourite hobby he had.

A book was a good idea. But what kind? Fact or fiction? Would he prefer a short story, or a long one? Maybe something with magic, she did kind of want to warm him up to the idea. He was a wizard, after all, even if he didn’t know it yet.

Getting textbooks that they would need at Hogwarts was way too on the nose, even if he was the kind to enjoy reading that sort of thing. Not that she could get into Flourish and Blotts.

No, she wanted to get him something nice, something he could enjoy that _wasn’t_ boring schoolwork that only bossy geniuses actually liked.

She’d get him a muggle novel. A fantasy story, something with magic and adventure.

Now all she needed was money, and to convince someone to take her into London to actually buy it.

* * *

Ginny ran down the hallway to try and catch Sarah.

It had taken her an hour just to find her in this dark, winding maze of a children’s home. It might have gone faster if every second worker here hadn’t turned her away without directions.

“Sarah!” she called out, “Sarah!”

Sarah spun around, frowning in concern, “Everything alright?”

Ginny nodded and put her hands on her hips, “I want to buy a book for Tom. It’s his birthday soon, and he’s never had a present before. I need a little bit of money, and someone to take me.”

“I don’t think he’s had a friend before, either. You’re awful sweet,” Sarah replied, “You’d be the only one in the place wanting to buy the rascal something of his own. Well, I’ll do what I can, the orphanage won’t pay for it, and I don’t have much, what with the Depression and all. But I have a little bit of pocket money, we could probably get a second-hand book for a pence or two. I’m going on a trip to the grocers tomorrow, I’ll take you along and you can pick up something.”

“Yes! Thank you, Sarah!”

The young woman grinned and ruffled Ginny’s hair. “You’re welcome. To be honest we need all the joy we can get around here, its getting dreadfully grim lately.”

Ginny nodded.

* * *

Ginny was shaken awake. She looked up blearily to see Sarah looming over her. She felt Tom curl further into her back.

“I’ve told the Matron that I’m taking you to help me on the grocery run. Come on, let’s go,” the girl said.

Ginny nodded and rubbed her eyes, sitting up. She was putting on her shoes when she noticed Tom was awake and looking at her, questioning.

“I’ll be back soon,” she said, smiling at him. He nodded and turned over.

She turned and followed Sarah out. Ginny frowned when she stopped and knocked on another door. She heard a thump before the door opened, and two boys who looked about twelve walked out, one still yawning.

“You two ready to go?” Sarah asked them.

The yawning boy nodded.

“Yeah we’re ready,” said the other.

As they left, she entered several more rooms, collecting six of the older children in total. Ginny was easily the youngest and smallest there. It was familiar territory for her, and she could almost imagine that she was at home, her mother corralling everyone for a trip, dragging the twins away from their latest antic and trying to clean up Ron’s face before leaving the house. Percy would hold her hand so she couldn’t possibly be lost in the rush.

But she was not at home. She was here, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, the children lining up with order and discipline, rather than a rowdy cheer.

She did wonder how they were going to get there. They were muggles, they couldn’t use the floo, or portkeys.

It turned out, they were walking there.

They’d been walking for about twenty minutes at a pretty brisk pace, and Ginny was exhausted. She’d only rarely walked this far without a break in her life, and certainly not when she was this little. She was sure her legs wouldn’t handle a return trip.

“Y’aight?” asked a blonde boy, slowing down so she could keep up with him.

She nodded, too out of breath to speak. She could see her breath from the cold air.

The boy slowed down further for her, “Never come on a grocer trip before? The place isn’t too far now, and you’ll get a chance to rest your little legs before we come back. No one’ll make you carry heavy things anyhow.”

Oh Merlin, she had to walk all the way back while carrying stuff.

* * *

The bookstore was a few doors down from the grocers, and when they got there Ginny was promptly deposited at the doors while the other kids went on ahead.

“Here you go, Virginia,” Sarah said, handing her two coins, “You find something nice. Come over when you’re done, or we’ll come and get you if you’ve not shown up and we’re finished.”

Ginny nodded and headed into the dimly lit little bookstore, a bell dinging as she walked through the doors.

A plump older woman appeared, smiling genially, “Anything I can help you with, sweetheart?”

“I’m looking for a present for my friend. He likes to read.”

“The children’s section is this way,” the woman said, leading the way into the side-room.

It didn’t look any different from the rest of the shop. It was just another room filled with shelves books.

“I’ll be at the front desk if you need help.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” she replied. She started looking through the titles.

Ginny’s first choice had been ‘The Hobbit’, but it wasn’t even published yet. She didn’t know very many muggle books to begin with. She’d have to find something new. Well, old. New to her.

She browsed through the shelves, running her hands over the covers. Books felt so different, textured and simple rather than smooth and brightly illustrated, and none of them were paperbacks.

Amongst titles like ‘Little Lord Fauntleroy’, and ‘Queen Silver-Bell’ there was one she recognised. ‘The Secret Garden’. Ginny had read the book a few years ago, but she hadn’t really liked it. The main character was haughty, cranky, and sour, an unwanted and unloved orphan who took it out on everyone around her. Ginny hadn’t related at all, but now she knew someone who might.

It wasn’t the present she had set out for, its mentions of magic were vague and probably metaphorical, and it wasn’t really fantasy at all. But, Ginny thought as she flipped through the pages, getting flashes of Mistress Mary slowly being brought to life as she cared for a garden as neglected as herself, it may well be perfect.

* * *

Almost a month later, Ginny gave Tom the book, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a simple string.

He’d tried to open it carefully, untying the string and unfolding the paper. But when the paper tore despite his care, he just ripped it open.

“Thank you, Ginny,” he said, opening the book. He looked like he didn’t quite believe it was for him.

“I hope you like it,” she said.

He nodded, moving to go sit down and start reading.

Ginny rolled her eyes and opened her arms. He was there before she could even blink, almost bowling her over with the force of his hug.

He’d been reading for two days since, and he’d been giving some mixed signals as to whether he actually liked it. One one hand he hadn’t really put it down for longer than ten minutes. On the other hand he’d thrown it against the wall. Twice.

“That’s really not how you’re supposed to treat books, you know. You’re supposed to try to _not_ break them.”

Tom glared at her.

“If you’re angry with it, just yell at it. Gets all the anger out and you don’t waste the money I spent on that _present for you_.”

He had the decency to look contrite at least. “I’m sorry.”

Ginny smiled at him. “It’s quite alright. I’ve gotten mad at my fair share of books too you know.”

Tom nodded, smiling slightly. “I do like the book. But I was never as angry with Alice as I am with Mary.”

“Maybe you relate,” she said, teasing.

Tom froze up, grinding his teeth. “I don’t! I’m not like this- commanding, rude and spoiled-”

“No, you’re not. You can relate to what she’s gone through without having all of her personality you know.”

“Oh,” Tom said softly, “Then… yes. I guess I do, a little.”

Ginny’s eyebrows went up in shock. Tom actually admitted to something he felt all defensive about? Next thing you know it would snow in the middle of summer.

“But only a tiny bit,” he corrected quickly.

That was more like it.


	6. Chapter 6

Reading his new book had given Tom a bit of a fascination with the outside gardens. They were bare now, but still well maintained, no weeds or dead bushes hanging around to suffocate the new sprouts that would come later.

But, although he felt a fascination, and a bit of new understanding, he didn't have any desire to get his hands in the dirt. He just wanted to be around it all, watching the plants, the birds, and the insects as they all lived their own lives far removed from caring about what any human said or thought.

He found himself envious of that.

He walked through the sleeping gardens, his new book in hand, just feeling the bite of the wind as it blew through his hair. He'd been finding more moments like this recently, moments where he wasn't angry at the world or shutting himself down because it was all too much. He just felt… content.

He wandered for a while. It was still cold enough outside that most of the other kids didn't come out to play until later in the afternoon, so other than the chirps of birds and the low echo of clatter from the nearby kitchens, there wasn't much noise at all.

He found a nice spot to sit, and opened his book.

"Hey, Tommy," someone called in a singsong tone. Tom shot to his feet in alarm. No one was supposed to be out here.

A skinny boy of about nine walked out, hands in his trouser pockets. Tom recognised him.

"What do you want, Timothy?" Tom demanded, eyes narrowing in suspicion. That boy was never friendly just for the sake of it.

"Just out for a stroll. Nice day isn't it?" Timothy said, grinning, coming closer. Tom took a step back.

"What's that you've got there?" he asked, spotting Tom's book still sitting on the paver. Tom moved to grab it, but the boy was faster, snatching it up and flicking through the pages.

"That's mine!"

"It's a girl's book is what it is."

"It is not!"

"Yes it is."

"Shut up!"

"Only hanging out with a girl, one weirder than you of all things, reading girl's books, I bet you play with dolls too."

"I do not, shut up! Ginny's not weird, and this isn't a girl's book it's just a book!"

"Nah, maybe you're not a girl. Maybe you're just boring."

Tom saw red, "Shut up!" he screamed, lunging at the boy. The boy danced out of the way, laughing silently.

Timothy frowned, opening and closing his mouth, mouthing words but no sound came out. He started looking panicked.

Tom grabbed his book and ran back inside as fast as he could, heading straight for his room and shutting the door behind him.

What on earth had that been? Timothy couldn't speak anymore, had that been him? Could he have somehow done that just by wanting it? No way…

He put his book down on his bed, took a few steps back, and stared at it, wanting it in his hands with all his might.

Nothing. The book didn't so much as twitch.

Okay so it wasn't that. Then what? Had Timothy suddenly gotten that sickness that stops people from being able to talk? Lary-something? Maybe he should go to the nurse.

No, no he wasn't going to get help for him. He'd had the nerve to insult him, imply there was something wrong with hanging out with Ginny, and then call him _boring_. As though Tom could ever be something as pathetic and insipid as _boring_! How **dare** he!

He could suffer for all Tom cared.

Maybe he should tell Ginny what happened though. She might have some ideas as to what happened and what to do about it.

But he didn't want to go running to _anyone_ just because of a bit of trouble, even if it was her.

Where was she anyway?

* * *

When Tom found her, she was surrounded by Marcus and his band of menaces.

The sneering girl looked furious as she pulled on a fistful of Ginny's hair, her own hair a desperately bright orange rather than its usual blonde.

A rather large boy was holding Ginny against the wall while she fought, growling at them with fury of her own. Her nose and knuckles were bleeding.

Tom needed to get her out of there, but how? There were five of them, there was no way he could fight them any more than Ginny could, though she had clearly given it her best shot. Marcus himself had a black eye, and the boy holding her had a split lip.

Ginny spotted Tom, her eyes widening either in surprise or concern, or a mix of both, he wasn't really sure. Either way it was enough that Tom ducked back around the corner to consider his options without being beset by those trolls.

Mind you, if he did get them to chase _him_ instead, then Ginny could get away and he could lure them into a room and lock them in.

They would almost certainly want revenge after that and come after Ginny and himself even harder, but this was the worst escalation he'd seen and he needed to get her out of there before they broke her nose.

He braced himself and rounded the corner.

"Hey!" he yelled, puffing himself up. Ginny looked up in alarm as the bullies all turned to face him.

"How are you all so pathetic that you need to beat up a little girl? Are you freaks or just cowards?" he continued.

"Who're you calling freak?" demanded the boy with the split lip.

"You're one to talk," sneered the smallest boy, "I've never seen you with anything but that freakish stare. Do you even know how a face is supposed to work?"

"Clearly not like _that_," Tom replied, pointing at the small boy's own ratlike mug. The boy charged at him.

Marcus grinned, "Looks like the creep is asking for it today," he said, and followed the rat-faced boy.

Just as he'd hoped, the boy with the split lip dropped Ginny and gave chase.

Out of the corner of his eye, just before he ran, he saw that the girl hadn't followed. But there was no time to worry about that, Ginny would have to deal with it, because now the rest of them were chasing _him_.

It occurred to him, as he rounded the seventh corner and struggled for breath, that this was a really stupid plan. It relied very much on him being faster than four boys who were all _taller than him_.

At last he'd reached a hall of bedrooms, it really didn't matter whose.

He opened a door at random, flinging himself inside and leaving it open, positioning himself to pull it shut as he ran back out.

The others followed him in, and Tom grabbed the door handle and ran.

One of the boys saw the move out of the corner of his eye and grabbed at Tom before he could get out, tossing him into the centre of the room with the others.

Someone kicked the door shut, sealing him in with four very angry, surprisingly large boys, all older than him.

The boy with the split lip grinned, blood coating his teeth.

Oh god, he needed out. Right now! He bolted towards the window on pure instinct, bracing himself for impact and cursing whatever force in his body made him want to do that.

But he hit nothing. The wind hit his face, nipping at his cheeks and pulling at his hair. Tom opened his eyes, frowning.

He was outside. Right near the sleeping gardens where he'd been reading not an hour ago.

How? Seriously, how?

He turned and made his way back inside.

He wished he knew some swearwords, today was just that kind of day.

* * *

"That was very brave of you, Tom. Thank you," Ginny said as he wrapped up her knuckles with clean handkerchiefs.

"Stupid is what it was. We need something better next time, something to stop them from hurting us in the first place. To scare them enough that they won't try."

She looked up at him, an odd expression on her face.

She shook her head, "We could just tell Sarah, or Mary. I know the Matron won't do anything, but they might, and we have proof that we're the injured parties," she said, pointing to her nose.

There was a clearly visible purple bruise blooming across it now. She was very lucky it wasn't broken.

"We also have proof that we didn't just sit and get beaten," he retorted, holding up her newly wrapped hands, "We retaliated, we won't get any sympathy now. With our luck, the ones that chased me will have said that I herded them into the room and attacked _them_."

Ginny sighed and looked down at her hands, her eyes watery. Tom hoped that was from the bruising and she wasn't about to cry.

He frowned, "What happened with the girl who stayed with you? She didn't hurt you more, did she?"

She shook her head, "I got away."

Tom nodded, "Good."

He thought of telling her all the odd things that had happened to him today, but he wasn't sure what to make of them yet. Perhaps he was going mad. He didn't want to be creepy **and** insane, then he'd be all alone again. He didn't think he could bear it a second time, not after knowing what it was like to have a friend.

He couldn't tell her. But, if he really were going mad, no one else would see the strange things that were happening around him. So Ginny shouldn't have seen that the girl bully's hair was the wrong colour.

"Ginny, the girl who pulled your hair, what colour was hers?" he asked.

"Her hair?" Ginny asked.

"Yes."

"What do you want to know that for?"

"It doesn't matter why, just tell me."

Ginny shifted in her seat and looked around, "I dunno. I was getting beaten up, remember?" she mumbled.

She got up and headed over to the bed, pulling the covers up to her ears. Nevermind that it wasn't even sunset and they were still sharing.

That was… odd. Not another to the list of odd things, but a definite point _against_ him being crazy. Because it seemed to him that she too saw that girl's hair had changed, and was intentionally hiding it.

Why on earth would she do that?

"Ginny," Tom said, sitting on the bed next to her.

"Mmmph?" she responded, her face practically buried in the pillow.

He hoped she didn't hurt her nose.

"Why did Marcus target you so hard today?"

She turned and faced him, looking impossibly sad. Something in his chest ached at the sight.

"I did something. I didn't mean to, but that doesn't really matter around here, does it?"

Tom shook his head. It really didn't. He placed his hand on hers.

"I'm here," he said.

She smiled, something like hope shining in her eyes, and threaded her fingers with his.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Thank you very much for your ongoing comments, I very much look forward to them!

Ginny woke up late. Well, late for her, late ever since she'd been dumped into this lonely hellscape for deranged orphans and her body had decided to wake her at sparrowfart every day.

She lay there, staring at the ceiling. Her nose hurt. Her knuckles hurt.

How did she even get here? Under what circumstances did that creepy whispering curtain decide that _this_ was a good place to dump her?

She was half her bloody height, and half her bloody age, and she had just enough magic to get into trouble!

The only decent thing here was the cold little bastard she shared a room with!

That was unfair. He wasn't a bastard, and he wasn't as cold as he seemed. He was a little dark, sure, and a little twisted, but he cared about her, and he felt emotions as much as anyone. He just didn't show it like other people, especially in front of others. She liked him, trusted him.

Still though, it was very easy to see how he could have become the monster that nearly killed her.

But, she didn't _want_ to be the only thing standing between this kid and the abyss.

She turned her head, looking out into the room. Tom was sitting in the middle of the floor facing the door, his back not quite to her.

She should get up. She didn't want to but she should. If she didn't, one of the staff would come in and drag them down to breakfast anyway.

She sat up and rubbed at her face, wincing as she touched her bruised nose.

Tom saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and startled, dropping something and snapping his head in her direction.

A crayon rolled over and hit her toes.

He looked up at her, eyes wide. He wasn't doing anything, there were no papers around him, no books, no toys.

He looked… alarmed. What was he hiding? What could he _possibly_ be doing with a single crayon that was worth hiding? Sticking it up his nose?

She shook her head, and went about getting ready for the day.

Tom stood, "Let me see your hands," he said, sounding as firm as a seven year old could sound, and as gentle as he could. Which was surprisingly gentle, she had to admit. She didn't think he had it in him.

She stopped and held her hands out towards him. The handkerchiefs wrapped around her knuckles were still clean, so that was a good sign.

He unwrapped them, the fabric sticking slightly to her hands and stinging as he pulled it off. Her knuckles were scabbed up, but nothing was bleeding or swollen anymore.

"Your knuckles are nearly healed. I don't think I need to re-wrap them," he looked up at her, teasing, "Unless you plan on punching someone else today?"

Ginny shoved him. This boy was _rude_.

He laughed, catching himself easily. It was a light, joyful sound. She didn't even know he could sound like that, she hadn't heard him laugh even once before.

She smiled at him, indignation forgotten. Strange that a laugh could make a room seem brighter.

She made her way to the bathroom. The light turned on by itself as she entered.

She should be grateful her magic was back. It was like another sense had been missing, and now it flooded through her veins and crackled at her palms.

But without a wand it was useless. Worse, it was out of control. If she'd had her wand yesterday, she would have Bat-Bogey'd the lot of those morons, instead of having to resort to punching and kicking and hurting her hands.

If she'd had her wand, she would never have been targeted in the first place, because she wouldn't have turned that bulldog of a girl's hair orange.

Maybe she would have been targeted anyway. The girl had come to torment her regardless, it was only Ginny's own retaliation that brought the others. And no matter the means, Ginny would have retaliated.

The only way she could have avoided it all was if she had been a muggle. But magic was a part of who she was, and regardless of the consequences she couldn't just give up a part of her soul. It was a part of Tom too, and she wanted to just sit him down and explain everything, magic, Hogwarts, all of it. But she didn't know if _his_ accidental magic had started yet. Hers had, for certain, but if she just started talking about all this and he _hadn't_ experienced any magic, then either he would think her completely off her rocker, think she was making things up, or the worst scenario: wonder how she knew all this. Because then she'd have to explain how she knew that _he_ was a wizard too.

It was going to be hard enough explaining how she knew about Hogwarts and the magical world without giving away the whole 'I'm from the future, sort-of' thing. She didn't know what kind of time-travel rules applied here, but she didn't need to give Tom any sort of hints about the shit future-him did.

Then again, did she even want to go to Hogwarts? She wanted a wand, desperately. Preferably hers but any would do. And she wanted to go home. Even Tom's strange friendship wasn't enough to replace her family, her friends, her _home_.

Ultimately, she still needed a way into the Ministry, but only after she'd learned more about the Veil. Hogwarts might well be her only option for learning about that thing, as she didn't have any money to buy relevant books from Flourish and Blotts.

How were she and Tom even going to pay for their things? Did Hogwarts have some kind of fund for destitute orphans?

Ginny rinsed her mouth from the toothpaste and sighed. She wasn't the kind to wallow, she'd decided that long ago. Even if life seemed hard now, she'd been through worse and survived.

She looked at herself in the mirror. She still looked too small, but she'd grown since she'd arrived. Her brown eyes looked hard, coupled with the bruise that was still stark across her nose she almost looked tough. Almost.

She took a steeling breath. She could do this. She'd survived a soul eating diary and a basilisk, she could survive some vicious eight year olds for a few years.

* * *

Breakfast was awkward. Perhaps awkward was a little understating it, but 'vaguely sinister' was certainly _overstating_ it.

Ginny and Tom walked into the already crowding dining room, and three separate groups of kids just stopped and glared at them, silently. Everyone else continued as normal, leaving those handful of children as creepy beacons of stillness in a loud, bustling room.

Being a creepy beacon of stillness was usually Tom's job.

Ginny spotted Marcus and his crowd as one of the groups, and the scowling sour-faced girl in another. Her hair was back to its usual blonde. Strange though, she thought that girl was a part of Marcus's band of bullies. She knew no-one in the third group.

They'd all turned back to the table and their meals by the time Tom and Ginny got there.

They squeezed in at the end of the table, as far away from all three bands as possible. She didn't know what was up their bonnets today, but she wasn't letting Tom out of her sight.

She turned to him, after taking her bowl of porridge. "I don't think its a good idea for either of us to be alone today. We should stay with the crowds."

Tom nodded, "Yes. Timothy still has it out for me, and Ruth still looks like she wants to rip your throat out."

"She always looks like that."

Tom's eyes sparkled, amused, "More than usual, then."

"Why does Timothy have it out for you?"

Tom's expression turned cold, "Why did Marcus target you yesterday?"

So he hadn't let that drop. She might have to explain magic sooner than she thought, unless she could come up with a good lie soon. Either way this was not the place to talk about it.

"Not here," she said, turning to her food.

Tom, however, wasn't very good at taking hints. He frowned at her, "If you've got a secret you can just tell me. I thought you trusted me, I thought we were friends."

"We _are_ friends, but people are listening," Ginny hissed.

"People weren't listening last night and you didn't want to say anything then either!" he growled back.

She said nothing, stubbornly staring at her porridge. This was not the place to get into a fight. The kids around them were starting to stare.

"Look at me!" Tom demanded, banging his hand on the table and abandoning all intentions of keeping quiet.

Ginny turned and glared daggers at him, her irritation flaring up into outright rage.

Her porridge bowl whipped itself at the wall, shattering and smearing gooey oats all down the wood.

Both children blinked in surprise, staring at the mess.

_Was that me or Tom?_ wondered Ginny. She glanced at him. He was staring at the dripping mess, looking almost panicked. Did he know it might have been him?

"Who threw that?" yelled the Matron, standing up at the head of the table, and ruining any chance of the incident going unnoticed. Everyone was looking now, every worker, every orphan.

"It was Tom!" a black haired kid opposite them shouted, pointing. Ginny recognised him vaguely, but didn't remember ever having so much as spoken to him.

Tom's already panicked expression went white.

Ginny stood up, "I did it, ma'am. I'm sorry."

Tom stared at her, incredulous. It was the most expressive he'd been.

The Matron's lips pressed together in a thin line. "I don't know which of you it was, you're both troublemakers sticking up for each other at every turn. Food is expensive, dinnerware more so. You will both see me in my office after breakfast. You are to go and wait there for your punishment."

Someone giggled.

"Silence!"

They shut up.

"Everyone will resume breakfast. Mary, clean up the mess," she said, gesturing to the young, frightened looking woman who woke them sometimes, "Griffiths, Riddle, to my office. Now."

It took Ginny half a second to remember that her last name was Griffiths here. She walked around the table, Tom tailing her, and headed towards the Matron's office, feeling the eyes of all fifty orphans on her. As she rounded the corner into the hall, she could see Ruth grinning viciously.

They walked down the halls in tense silence.

They were halfway there when Tom spoke, "Are you going to tell me what you did that upset them yesterday?"

"Really? You're still on that?" Ginny replied, baffled.

"Yes. I think I threw that bowl. I was angry, and things happen when I'm angry. It started yesterday."

"What happened?" she asked. Tom glanced at her, eyes narrowed.

Right. He wanted what happened to her first. Why was she so reluctant to tell him about this?

"I was cornered by Ruth. It was just her, but she gets nasty. She said some really mean things, and I got angry. I turned her hair orange. Not with dye or anything like that, it just happened suddenly, like magic. It _was_ magic. So was that bowl throwing itself at the wall."

Tom nodded, like she'd confirmed something he'd already suspected. "I stole Timothy's voice. When Marcus and the rest were chasing me, I ran at a wall and ended up outside."

"Our magic comes out to help us when we're angry, or scared."

"Do you think we can control it?"

Ginny hesitated. _Could_ they control their accidental magic before they got a wand? Was that what Tom was doing this morning with the crayon? Trying to train his accidental magic?

Was it time to tell him about Hogwarts? She couldn't keep it from him forever, at some point the secret would come out and he would never trust her again. There wasn't going to be a better time to tell him, but how could she explain how she knew?

"I don't know, but we can try," she said, "I know that when we turn eleven we'll go to Hogwarts, a magical school. We'll get wands and learn how to use magic properly, and learn all sorts of spells and potions."

Tom stopped in his tracks, blinking.

She stopped and turned to him.

"Are you playing pretend?" he asked. He looked like he could snap at any second, like a brittle twig.

"No, I mean it," she said, hoping desperately that he would believe her. That he wouldn't declare her crazy here and now.

"How do you know?"

"I told you about my family? They're magical too. All of my older brothers went to Hogwarts, so did my parents when they were kids."

Half truths. She wasn't ready to tell him she was from another time, possibly another world.

"Truly? You're not kidding? Because if this is some kind of joke I will-"

"No, Tom, I'm not kidding. No jokes, no playing pretend. I'm a witch, and you're a wizard, and when we're just a little older we'll be going to a school that will teach us everything."

Tom let out a breath and pulled Ginny in, hugging her tightly. Ginny hugged back, surprised. He hadn't initiated hugs before. He always clung to her like he was starved for touch, but he never started it.

"I'm not crazy," he muttered lowly, relief obvious.

He let go, holding her at arms length and frowning at her. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"We only got our magic _yesterday_, Tom, how much earlier should I have told you?" Ginny asked, amused.

"Right. Good point," he said, turning and continuing down the hall towards the Matron's office.

"Later today, we can figure out how to control our magic before we get wands. I don't know how, but we'll try."

Tom smiled at her, his blue eyes lighting up.

Ginny didn't know what punishment the Matron had for them. Maybe they'd get the cane like was always threatened, or maybe they'd be made to shovel snow, or clean the toilets.

It didn't really matter. It would pass, and then she and Tom would prepare.

She had a whole world of magic to show him.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry didn't want to walk through the doors. If he walked through then it would be real. He was still almost hoping this was one long nightmare.

Sirius placed his hand on his shoulder. "It'll be alright, Harry."

The man looked like someone else entirely, with mousy brown hair, green eyes and a square jaw. He had a flask of Polyjuice potion in his new black robes.

Harry was sure he himself looked like a wreck. He hadn't cared to look. It wasn't like it mattered, he was showered and wearing good clothes, that was good enough.

He did wish that he could come and live with Sirius, but Dumbledore had explained the protection spells active at Number 4 Privit Drive quite thoroughly. At least he didn't have to suffer the Dursleys company too long this year.

He pushed through the doors, Sirius right by his side. He'd been in contact with him every day since the school term had ended. He hated the coddling, but he also wasn't sure what he'd do without him.

Hermione was already here, along with her parents. She was wearing a black dress that came to just above her knees, and her hair was looking less bushy than usual. Everyone would be wearing black today.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, spotting him and rushing over, "Goodness, did you even try to fix your hair?" He swatted her hands away as she tried to tame the untameable.

"Don't worry about it, Hermione."

"Are we late?" Sirius asked her, nodding politely to her parents who were still standing at the wall, chatting amiably to an odd looking man with long blond hair.

"No, the service starts in about ten minutes. I think you're the last ones to arrive, though."

Harry nodded absently, looking around the room. It was a small gathering, about twenty-five people. He spotted a few members of the Order, some students from the DA, and several students he vaguely recognised as fourth year Gryffindors.

He saw the Weasleys all grouped together at the front of the room, their missing member as obvious to him as a missing thumb.

At the very front was a large wooden casket, delicate engravings carved along the edge, and several oversized bouquets placed on top. The casket was closed. There was no body. The Veil didn't even left them with that much.

It had been 27 days since he'd gotten Ginny killed. He'd been counting them.

It was hard to believe that he'd saved her life once. Now everyone just died around him, first Cedric and now Ginny. How many more would he get killed?

"Hello," said a soft, ethereal voice. Harry whirled, startled.

Luna Lovegood had walked up next to him. Her layered, frilly dress was bright pink, with silver feathered cuffs around the sleeves and waist, and she wore a long twine necklace threaded with baubles.

"Hi, Luna," he said, trying to get his heart rate under control and putting his wand back in his pocket. He was too jumpy.

Sirius nodded at her, "Hello. Nice outfit."

"Hello, Luna," said Hermione, eyeing her dress but saying nothing.

"You should be careful, this sort of gathering attracts the Glumbilps."

Hermione visibly bit her tongue. Harry knew he shouldn't ask. He did anyway, "What's a Glumblip?"

"Its a small gnome-like creature that's drawn to sadness and drinks the blood from your ankles."

That didn't sound too weird, although Harry had a hard time imagining that people wouldn't take precautions against such a creature at funerals.

"That doesn't sound like a real thing, Luna," Hermione said.

Luna shrugged, "We should find our seats now. I think Ron is looking for you, Harry."

Ron. Although they had been talking by mail, he still felt nervous at the thought of speaking to his best friend in person.

He felt Sirius' hand on his shoulder again. "No one blames you, Harry. Least of all the Weasleys," Sirius said. He'd been saying that constantly. Harry was sick of hearing it.

He turned back to Luna, "Luna, I'm sorry. Ginny was your friend and-"

"Harry," Luna interrupted, "You didn't kill her. She died fighting for a good cause. Don't ruin her sacrifice by making this about you." With that she turned and walked off.

"Close your mouth, Harry," Hermione said after a minute, like she hadn't also just stood there gobsmacked.

Sirius just shook his head, "Alright kids, time to find our seats. Hermione, are you sitting with your parents?"

Hermione bit her lip, looking at Harry worriedly. "No, I'll sit with you and Ron."

Harry frowned. "Ron will probably-"

"There you are, mate," Ron's voice interrupted. He saw the tall redhead hurrying towards them, "I've been looking for you."

He seemed subdued.

"Hey, Ron."

"Hi, Ron," Hermione said.

"It's gonna start any minute, come on you lot."

He turned and headed towards the rows of chairs, Harry, Hermione, and Sirius trailing behind him.

After the last person had sat down, the chatter of the room faded.

Harry was waiting for whoever was going to stand and give the eulogy when the casket burst into flames, a huge bonfire rising almost to the ceiling. Harry jumped, eyes wide. Beside him, Hermione had done the same and was clutching her chair.

Harry looked around, none of the wizards seemed fazed. He guessed that that was supposed to happen.

Ginny's face appeared in the flames, smiling, laughing, and watching over them all, her red hair almost seeming like part of the fire itself.

In front of the bonfire, a scene appeared. It was a large bright field, grass and flowers waving in the breeze, and Ginny in the middle, younger than he'd ever seen her, sunny and giggling as she ran around chasing insects.

As she ran past the edge of the fire she disappeared, and the image shifted to grey stone, another Ginny coming into view from the other side.

Here she looked as she did when Harry first met her, about ten, shy and smiling. She looked nervous and eager in equal measure. The Hogwarts Express shifted into view, and Ginny boarded, pausing to grin and wave one more time. The train took her with it out of view.

The images continued, flowing one into the other, Ginny playing gobstones with her friends, practising Quidditch, playing pranks with her brothers. She moved and talked, laughed and danced and played. She grew up before their eyes, stubborn and fierce, joyful and beautiful.

Her voice echoed out from her face in the fire, the only sound aside from the crackle of flames, "I'd do it all again, you know. Nothing would stop me. Not the whole world."

And then the world was plunged into silence and darkness. Everything was still, the fire and flames banished.

Harry stared, his heart aching. A realisation hit him, something he knew but hadn't really _known, __c__ouldn't _have known without the girl's full life marching in front of his eyes; Ginny would always have marched along side him all the way to her death, willingly, and there was nothing he could ever do to stop it. You couldn't control Fiendfyre, not really.

Knowing that, feeling it within his bones, his guilt gave way to grief like a tidal wave.

After several long moments, fairy lights flickered back into being, lighting up the room once more.

Looking around slowly, he saw that almost everyone was crying. Hermione's eyes were swimming, Luna had silent wet tracks down her cheeks, Mrs Weasley was sobbing openly into a handkerchief, held by her equally distraught husband, even Ron's eyes were red-rimmed and watery, as were every one of his brothers'.

Harry almost felt bad that he himself wasn't crying, but his pain was just as real all the same.

The casket was still there on the podium without even a scorch mark, even the flowers untouched, but now the whole thing was glowing brightly, almost blindingly.

"It will stay as bright as our grief is fresh," Hermione said, quietly and sadly. Perhaps she was eager to explain something, if only to be back on solid footing, "The casket will fade away as we process her passing. The family takes the casket home, usually outside in a place of honour, and when it has faded completely they put up a gravestone."

"We'll put it in the garden, just in front of the field," Ron said, his voice low and cracking, "She always loved to play Quidditch out there."

Harry put his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Ron…" said Hermione, gently.

"My sister's gone," Ron said, looking down at his feet, tears running down his face as his voice broke "I don't know what to do."

Hermione stood up and walked over to Ron's seat, knelt down in front of him and pulled his head onto her shoulder, weaving her arms around him and rubbing his back.

"I know, I know, I'm so sorry, Ron," she said.

Harry felt awkward, he had no idea what to do but needed to be here, needed to comfort his friend. He followed his gut, leaning right onto both of his friends to hold them both, his arms reaching around both of them.

People around them were beginning to stand up and walk around, forming groups and talking amongst themselves, all low and sad.

Everyone talked and wept, and talked more. Like if they could extol Ginny's life enough then she would come back.

But she wouldn't, she never would. All they could do was miss her terribly, and hold the good memories close to their hearts, so she could live on in them.

They sat there, a huddled pile amongst the crowds, and just held on.

* * *

Harry was staying at the Weasley's for the rest of the summer.

Sirius, no longer in Polyjuice, had dropped him off at the Burrow with a promise to visit often and write even more often. Hermione was staying too, as was, for some reason, Fleur Delacore.

He had half expected it to be awkward here, but it wasn't really. The air was always sombre, and Mrs Weasley broke down crying a lot. But life went on as normal. Mr Weasley still tinkered in his shed, the Twins still pranked the staircase, Percy still poured over his textbooks on the dining table. Mrs Weasley still made too much food. It was comforting and very strange at the same time. Surely something should be different? A piece was _missing_.

He found himself in front of Ginny's casket a lot. He talked to her, like she was really there, like she could hear him. The others did it too.

He found himself wishing that he'd been a better friend. Her starstruck crush on him had put him off from the start, and to be honest there were times that he had avoided her. But this year had been different, she'd started being, well, normal towards him, and she was really cool. Then everything with the DA happened, and then this. And there was no getting the time back, no way to apologise, or move forward.

The casket glowed brightly, bright enough that at night one would have to shield their eyes.

Harry didn't see how it would ever fade away. Her family would never stop missing her. But, maybe one day the pain would stop being so constant. For all of them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a two chapter update, be sure to read the previous chapter as well!
> 
> Sorry this took so long, considering the subject matter of chapter 8 I needed to be sure that A: It wasn't too depressing considering the current crisis, and B: I had a second, happy chapter to post at the same time to leave you all on a good note.
> 
> Hope everyone is alright!

Ginny and Tom sat next to each other at the breakfast table. There was a bit of a gap between them and the next children in the row. This had been the case for many days now. It seemed to her that no one really wanted to be near either of them after the kerfuffle of four weeks ago. Perhaps the animosity should have died down by now, it had been almost a month, but grudges held long and hard in this place.

If they'd cared, perhaps Ginny would have at least tried to mend those bridges. But she didn't, neither of them did. They didn't care, they got along fine with just the two of them.

Honestly they were having a blast learning to turn their crayons different colours and levitate leaves. The colours didn't stay, and the levitation was never very high, but that was because they were still wandless. Basic, kind of weak magic was still magic, even if it wasn't the same as turning a teacup into a pineapple and making it dance off a desk.

At the head of the staff table, the matron stood. "Attention everyone. Tomorrow, we will be having an outing. The weather is warming up now, and we have all been cooped up for too long, it wouldn't do to have anyone catch the rickets."

She sat back down, leaving the children to all chatter excitedly amongst themselves.

"Excuse me ma'am?" asked a small black haired boy, "Where're we going?"

"We shall be headed to the seaside. Some nice sea air will do us all good," she replied.

Ginny turned to Tom, "Have you been on outings before?"

"Just once," he said, taking a mouthful of porridge, "About two years ago. We went to a park. It was boring."

Ginny nodded and turned her attention to her own breakfast. Even if the outing was boring, she'd like to have a change of scenery.

The beach was empty, save for the groups of kids scattering across the vast sandbank. The ocean was very blue, reflecting the wide sunny sky, a few picturesque clouds rolling across the horizon. There were all manner of colourful shells peppered along the sandy shore.

To the far right was a collection of tall sharp rocks like spires, the kind that stories said sunk ships, and just beyond that, burrowing into the cliff face behind, was a large ominous looking cave.

It was the only unappealing part of the beach. Naturally, that was the part Tom wanted to explore.

Ginny might have protested, save for two things. One, she was just so incredibly grateful to be out of that stuffy building that had served as her home for the past too goddamn long. And two, the other option was to hang around one of the other groups of kids who didn't particularly like her and who she didn't particularly like. Because Tom was going to that cave, one way or another.

"Come on, Ginny!" the boy in question called from several feet ahead.

Never let it be said that Ginny didn't have a sense of adventure.

The rock spikes were even taller than she'd thought. The cave itself was quite high up, and although she could pick out a path to climb up through the freaking spikes, hollows, and generally uneven stones, there was no way this was safe.

"We can levitate things," Tom said, "Could we hover each other across?"

Ginny looked at him. "Tom, we sometimes drop leaves. It's probably safer just to climb."

"Could we just appear at the top?"

"Apparition is dangerous without proper training. People lose limbs."

"I did it when I was running from Marcus, I'm still fully limbed."

"Okay, go ahead." She crossed her arms and waited, eyebrows raised.

Tom stood there awkwardly for a moment, seemingly unwilling to admit he had no idea how to even try going about that.

"I have an idea," said Ginny, "Instead of trying to use magic to solve every single problem when we're not even trained yet, we could just climb."

Tom grumbled, waving his arms at the sharp rocky climb, "But look at it."

"You're the one who wanted to explore this thing."

Tom stuck his tongue out at her, then turned and started climbing.

Ginny sighed, then followed. She'd hoped that maybe he'd just give up and head back to the nice beach with the shells and the waves. She looked over at the shore, the other kids were making terrible sandcastles and splashing in the water.

They made it to the top with little incident. Tom had nearly lost his footing once, after having made the mistake of looking down, but caught himself immediately.

He pulled himself over the ledge and into the mouth of the cave.

"I don't think I like heights," he said, reaching down to help her up.

"That's too bad, there's a magic sport called Quidditch that you play while flying on broomsticks."

"Broomsticks? Can't you just fly?"

"I'm not even sure if there is a flying spell."

"That's a shame" Tom said, wrinkling his nose. He turned and walked into the cavern.

It was dark, but not dark enough that they couldn't see. Their eyes adjusted quickly.

The moderately sized, winding cave turned a sharp bend, and revealed a truly massive cavern, large enough that it held a small lake inside. In the centre of the lake was an island. The limited light reflected off of the water's surface onto the craggy stone walls, giving the whole place a creepy, mystical ambience.

After they were done gaping, Ginny walked over to the edge of the lake.

Tom pushed her in. Ginny shrieked at the sudden cold.

"Tom, what the hell!"

He giggled, dipping the tips of his shoes in the water.

She started to paddle back, when she felt something touch her leg.

It grabbed her, and started to pull.

"Help! Tom, something's got me-" she was dragged under. She kicked and flailed, trying not to lose any more air.

And then she could breathe. She opened her eyes. She was still submerged, but around her head a bubble of air had formed, the Bubble-Head Charm or something like it. She looked down at what was attacking her leg, but it was too dark to see down here.

She felt a hand grab her arm, and she gripped back tight.

She was pulled out of the lake suddenly, and landed practically on top of Tom. His arms and chest were soaking. She rolled over onto blessed dry ground.

"I'm sorry," Tom blurted, sitting up and looking shaken. She turned her head to face him.

"I thought it was harmless, that you'd just get wet. I didn't mean to hurt you."

She threw him a rude gesture. He should know better than to just push people into lakes.

"Hey, I'm apologising. You're supposed to forgive me."

"You've gotta give me a minute, I nearly drowned thanks to you." An over-exaggeration, but she wanted him to feel bad for just a little longer.

"No you didn't, it takes minutes to drown even when you haven't just taken a big breath, and you were only under for thirty seconds if you're lucky."

She sat up and glared at him, her hair dripping. Her dress made an awful squelching sound as she moved.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Something grabbed me, I dunno what," she said. She really should stop ending up in damp caves.

Tom walked over to her, placed a hand on her arm and closed his eyes. His hand felt oddly warm. In seconds, Ginny found she was completely dry.

"Thank you."

Tom smiled at her, then started looking around. He came back with a long stick.

He walked over and plunged the stick into the water, waving it about. He jerked as it snagged on something. Whatever was in there must have grabbed the stick.

Tom was nearly pulled in as he tried to pull the stick back out.

Ginny grabbed Tom from behind and heaved. They fell over backwards as the tension suddenly gave way. The stick landed on the stone with a clatter.

"Did we get it?"

"I think so," Tom said, "Come look."

There, lying on the stone and still partially wrapped around the stick, was the monster that had tried to drag her under. It was seaweed.

"Are you kidding me?" Ginny yelled, outraged. It could have at least been a Grindylow. Seaweed? Seriously?

Tom started laughing again. He shut up when Ginny glared at him.

"Isn't it a good thing that the lake isn't filled with monsters?" he asked, still amused.

"You'd think so," Ginny grumbled.

"We could bring someone else up here, give them a scare."

"Why would we do that?"

"It'd be funny."

"It funny watching me nearly drown, was it?

"You didn't nearly drown."

Ginny just stared at him.

"No," he admitted, "it wasn't."

She walked over to the edge of the water and kicked a pebble in, watching the water ripple. The sound echoed around the cave.

"I wonder what's with that island," she said, looking over to the island in question. It wasn't very big, probably just big enough for four people to stand side by side.

"It's very flat," Tom said, "It's probably just how the rocks are here."

"Maybe."

"Hey, watch this," he said, picking the stick back up and pulling the seaweed off the end. He stood to the side, paused for a moment, and then threw it into the air above the lake.

It stayed there.

Ginny clapped, "That's amazing, Tom." She meant it, she wasn't even sure she was ready to levitate a rock yet. Tom was learning very quickly.

"Thank you, I-"

He was interrupted by a great splash as the thing fell down into the lake, narrowly missing spraying them.

Ginny laughed.

Tom grabbed a flat rock and shut his eyes. In moments, the rock started glowing. He tossed it out onto the water, where it floated gently on the surface like a feather. The light reflected off of the water, creating odd and beautiful patterns on the ceiling.

She admired the light for a moment. But, two could play at this game.

She placed her hand just on the surface of the water. She concentrated on what she wanted, fixed it in her mind, then pushed her magic towards it.

The lake shimmered, then turned bright pink. The light from the floating rock was still white on the ceiling, but the rays shining down into the water were now tinted pink.

She grinned at it, then at Tom. He grinned back, eyes sparkling.

A small war began, each trying to one up the other on adding to the magical pile atop the lake, things floating or spinning or exploding. Changing colours of things, or make things stick together.

"We should head back. We don't want to get left behind," Ginny said eventually, feeling that it had been at least an hour.

"Yeah, alright."

They walked back around to the cave entrance and looked down at the spiky climb.

"If a few of those rocks were just a bit higher," Tom said, "No one could ever get up here. We could do that, after we learn -what did you call it? Apparashon?"

"Apparition."

"After we learn Apparition, we could seal this place off so that only we can get in. It would be just ours."

Ginny smiled, "I'd like that."

They climbed back down, which was easier than the climb up in some ways, although the shadows had shifted, making it harder to see where the proper footholds were.

Tom ended up falling the last foot or so to the ground, though he was only bruised. "I really don't like heights."

Ginny helped him up. "That's alright, I don't think they're mandatory."

"There you two are," called Sarah, "I was wondering if we'd have to leave without you. Where were you?"

"Just over there," Ginny said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the cave.

"I'm sure. Well, we're all heading back now. Time for a final head count and then it's back home."

Ginny's stomach twisted at that. That orphanage would never be home to her, she had a better home waiting for her. Probably.

Even if she could never get back to the Burrow and her family, Hogwarts wasn't too far away.


	10. Chapter 10

Ginny paced the floor in their increasingly cramped bedroom. She was a little anxious. It’d been five months since Tom turned eleven, and nine months since _she_ had, assuming that her birthday really was the same here, which it may not be.

Still, it had been _months_ since they had both turned of age to receive their Hogwarts letters, and there had been nothing. No unusual owl activity, no letters given to either of them. Maybe the Matron was hiding them? Or burning them?

No no, that was ridiculous.

“Ginny, just sit down,” Tom said, not looking up from his book.

She looked over at him. He’d always been tall for his age, but he had eight inches of height over her now. She didn’t really enjoy being the shortest person in the room again.

“We should have had our letters by now.”

“You said that yesterday.”

“I know.”

“We’re still special, still magical. You said that every magical kid in the country gets their name listed for invitation to Hogwarts.”

Ginny nodded and sat down. That was true, but she’d arrived in this time unexpectedly. Yes, she appeared to have always existed here, but who knew how it actually worked? She didn’t have the same name here, after all.

What if Tom got a letter, and she didn’t?

Someone knocked on the door. The Matron entered, “Tom? Virginia? You have a visitor. This is Mr Dundlebore- sorry, Dumbleton. He’s come to tell you, well, I’ll just let him do it.”

A man stepped through the door, he had long auburn hair and a longer auburn beard. He wore a flamboyantly cut plum coloured suit and half-moon wireframed glasses.

Ginny was glad she was already sitting down. Holy shit. She knew Dumbledore was old, but she hardly expected him to show up at her doorstep.

He turned to look at them each in turn, “Hello Virginia, Tom. How do you both do?”

He put out his hand towards Tom for him to shake. Tom hesitated, glancing at Ginny, then shook it.

He turned to her and held out his hand. Ginny shook it enthusiastically, relief practically pouring off of her now that the shock was wearing off.

The man pulled up wooden chair and placed it in the centre of the room, where he could face them both.

“I am Professor Dumbledore.”

Ginny could have bounced at the confirmation. She looked over at Tom, excitedly. _This was it_, they didn’t get just letters sent by owl because they were in the muggle world!

“Nice to meet you, professor,” she said, trying not to be too weird.

“You as well my dear.”

“Why are you here?” Tom asked, face and tone impassive.

“I am a teacher at a school called Hogwarts. I’ve come to offer you both a place at my school, your new school, if you should like to come.”

Tom’s eyes widened and he looked over at Ginny again. She smiled at him, struggling not to seem overeager.

“Hogwarts is a school for people with special abilities,” Professor Dumbledore continued, watching both of their reactions, “Tell me, have you ever seen strange things happen? Things that could couldn’t explain, perhaps when you were angry, or afraid?”

“Yes,” Ginny said, “We have.”

“And you, Tom?”

He nodded. Though his face was still expressionless, Ginny wasn’t sure he was breathing.

Professor Dumbledore smiled genially. “You, Tom, are a wizard. And Virginia, you are a witch.”

Tom’s impassivity broke with the confirmation, a wild grin carving its way onto his face. He looked a little manic.

“Are you a wizard too?” he asked.

“Yes, I am.”

“Prove it.”

“What he _means_ to say,” Ginny said, shooting a glare at Tom “Is that we’d like a demonstration please, professor.”

The professor looked amused, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. Without a word, he drew his wand from inside his suit jacket and pointed it at their wardrobe.

Their wardrobe burst into flames.

Ginny and Tom both jumped to their feet in shock, Tom screeching with rage. She couldn’t blame him, all of their stuff was in there!

And just as suddenly, it stopped, the wardrobe standing there untouched.

Tom looked ready to vibrate out of his skin.

“That was a mean trick, sir,” Ginny said, her good mood dimmed.

“My apologies. But I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe.”

She heard a faint rattle coming from inside of it. Ginny frowned, alarmed.

“Open it,” the man said.

Ginny crossed the room and opened the wardrobe doors. On the top shelf their cardboard box of toys and knickknacks was shaking and rattling. What game was the Professor playing?

She stood on her tiptoes and took out the box. Tom looked unnerved, still and pale. This was not a good first impression on Professor Dumbledore’s part.

“Is there anything in that box that neither of you ought to have?”

Ginny set her jaw. What business was it of his?

Tom spoke up, “Yes, sir. I suppose there is.” His face blank and his eyes sharp.

“Open it,” Professor Dumbledore said.

Ginny removed the lid and upended the box onto Tom’s bed. All of their knickknacks fell onto the bed. It was a pathetic haul, just basic toys and everyday items that somehow passed for possessions around here.

“You will return these objects to their proper owners, with your apologies,” Dumbledore said calmly, putting his wand back into his suit jacket. “I shall know whether it’s been done. Be warned: Thievery is not tolerated at Hogwarts.”

Was he serious? Poor Luna had her things stolen _constantly_. Or was this a rule forgotten over time? She ground her teeth.

“Yes, sir,” Tom said, colourlessly.

Ginny forced herself to relax. The professor might think she had a problem with being told not to steal, but that wasn’t it at all. The truth was complicated and unexplainable, at least without revealing that she was from the future. Besides, leaving a bad impression on the future headmaster was a dreadful idea, even if he wasn’t returning the favour.

“And you, Virginia?” he asked, turning to her.

Ginny looked up at him, “Not a problem, sir. This is… a local issue.”

Professor Dumbledore nodded. Ginny and Tom started loading the things back into the box.

“We haven’t any money,” Tom said to the professor.

“That is quite easily remedied,” Professor Dumbledore said, pulling out a leather money-pouch, “There is a fund for those who require assistance to buy their spellbooks, robes, wands and things. You may have to buy some of your spellbooks and such secondhand, however-”

“Where do you buy spellbooks?” Tom blurted, the sparkle returning to his eyes.

Ginny took the money-pouch politely, thanking him.

Dumbledore answered his question calmly, "In Diagon Alley. I have your lists of school equipment with me. I can help you find everything."

Tom frowned and interrupted again, "We don't need you. We're used to getting by on our own."

"Tom," Ginny said, exasperated, "Professor, we'd be most grateful if you could help us get around Diagon Alley."

"Ginny-"

"Tom," She challenged right back.

She had _no_ desire to go wandering around Wizarding London on their own, and besides, it gave the professor the much needed opportunity to, if not befriend, at least become amicable with Tom and herself.

“We don’t need him,” Tom whispered, “I don’t like him.”

“It doesn’t matter if you like him,” Ginny whispered back, “He’s one of our teachers. Do you really want to start Hogwarts with a teacher suspicious of you for no reason?”

“He’s already suspicious of us!” Tom hissed.

“If I might interject,” Professor Dumbledore said, proving that they hadn’t been near as quiet as they thought they were, “You are both highly independent young people, I acknowledge that, but you may find that having someone who knows their way around most helpful, if you wish.”

“I think its a good idea, Tom,” Ginny said.

Tom relented, “Alright.”

The professor clapped his hands once, “Excellent. Are you both ready to leave?”

* * *

“Here it is, the entrance to Diagon Alley,” Professor Dumbledore said, gesturing to the tiny, grubby looking pub called The Leaky Cauldron.

It looked almost exactly the same as it had the first time Ginny had seen it. And just like the last time, no one was entering the building, or even looking at it, despite it sitting right between a giant, bustling book shop and a new looking record shop.

“No one is even looking at it,” Tom muttered, “Its like they can’t see it.”

“They can’t,” replied the professor, “The place has been charmed to be invisible to muggles, only those with magical abilities can see it.”

He steered Tom and Ginny inside.

The inside was dark and shabby. It was very strange just how _little_ it would change over time.

“Hello, Tom,” Professor Dumbledore greeted.

Tom blinked in confusion, frowning.

“Hello, Albus, good to see you,” replied the barkeep, a young looking man with thick brown hair.

Tom frowned in earnest, mouth twisting.

“What’s wrong?” Ginny mouthed. Tom just shook his head.

The professor led them around the back to the solid brick wall that served as an entryway to the alley proper, and drew his wand. He tapped the wall three times.

The wall folded away, revealing Diagon Alley in all its glory.

Ginny had seen this sight so many times it had lost its wonder. It was just a market street to her.

Tom, on the other hand, had frozen in place, his eyes wide and darting this way and that, like he was trying to take in everything at once.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” Professor Dumbledore said to him, warmly.

“Yes, sir,” Tom said politely, completely at odds with how he eyed the man like he’d confiscated his sweets.

They made their way through the Alley, purchasing various cheap and second-hand school supplies as they went. Professor Dumbledore shrunk the packages for them, so they weren’t too loaded down.

They passed a pet shop that Ginny had never seen before, Gilbert and Gilbert’s Reptile Emporium. Tom wandered over, curious, and Ginny followed.

Through the window she could see all manner of lizards, frogs, toads, and snakes. Frogs and toads weren’t reptiles, but maybe they were just branching out. Lizards couldn’t be a very popular pet, at least for kids going to Hogwarts.

The outside glass display held a small white python, lazily sunbathing on a rock. Tom walked right up to it.

Seeing that Tom wasn’t going to head inside, Ginny wandered back to the professor, who had stopped and was waiting patiently.

She saw Tom freeze suddenly, and then rush back over to the professor and herself, looking pale. Ginny frowned, what could have happened while just admiring a- oh. A snake.

“Professor,” Tom started, hesitantly, “Can wizards talk to animals?”

“There are some spells which can allow talking to animals, but in general no,” replied Professor Dumbledore, “May I ask what’s brought this on?”

Tom glanced briefly over at the snake, which was now reared up and watching them. “It’s nothing,” he said.

“Ah,” said Professor Dumbledore, “You spoke to a snake, I assume”

“You said-”

The professor held up a hand, “It is unusual but not unheard of to be able to speak to snakes. The ability is called Parseltongue.”

Tom processed that for a moment, then resumed walking. “Why is speaking to snakes different than speaking to other animals?”

“I don’t really know. Parseltongue is passed down through parents to their children, and so on. Perhaps one day we’ll find that some wizards or witches have learned to speak to rabbits.”

Tom didn’t respond to that.

After getting their cauldrons and apothecary equipment, they arrived finally at the place that Ginny had been waiting for: Flourish and Blotts.

Professor Dumbledore took all of their shrunk purchases and gave them their book lists, sending them off into the shop.

Much like Ginny remembered, the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with all manner and size of books, some as large as paving stones and some as small as postage stamps, some bound by leather and some by silk.

One concerning looking book seemed to be looking at her. She was quite wary of highly magical books since _the incident_, and gave that one a wide berth.

Tom was enamoured, rushing this way and that to look through every book he could see. She was sure he’d get to his school books eventually, they were the spellbooks after all.

Ginny had a mission though. She searched through the shelves, looking for anything that could have reference to the Veil of Death.

She found only one book that was relevant, titled Mysteries of the Unspeakable, a skim of the first chapter left her with the impression that this was what the Quibbler was trying to emulate. But it did mention an ‘Archway of Lost Souls’ in the index, and she’d take anything at this early stage.

Tom wandered over, his arms filled with two secondhand copies of each of their textbooks, and a rather fat tome titled Greatest Wizards Through History and Back. The books were piled so high she couldn’t see his face. The stack wobbled ominously.

Ginny rushed to take her set of books off him.

“Thanks,” Tom said, re-adjusting his stack.

“You’re welcome. Did you get _everything_?”

“Yeah, you didn’t look like you were going to get them.”

Ginny felt sheepish at that. “Sorry.”

She couldn’t even tell him what she wanted the book for, although somehow he had managed to find something he wanted _and_ get all the school texts.

They made their purchases and had them bundled, then joined back up with Professor Dumbledore, who was flipping through what looked like a childrens novel.

He looked up and put down the book, “Ah, welcome back. I always find a good wander through a bookstore quite invigorating. There’s something about the smell of old parchment that wakes a hunger for knowledge. Or perhaps just hunger.”

Ginny snorted. Tom smiled slightly, like he was trying not to be amused.

“How about we stop for lunch before we get your wands?”

They both agreed, and they stopped at a fancy looking cafe for sandwiches and tiny slices of blue cake.

Then it was off to get their wands.

The gold lettering over the building was bright and fresh, but the words were still the same: Ollivanders – Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

There was a lone wand sitting on a plump purple cushion in the display window.

The bell tinkled as they walked in.

Professor Dumbledore settled himself in the single spindly chair next to the entrance

Ollivanders was an odd, creepy place, cramped and dim, with thousands of thin boxes piled high to the ceiling. Ollivander himself was nowhere to be seen. The back of Ginny’s neck prickled. Beside her, Tom seemed tense, doubtless he too felt the tingle of magic that lived in the very dust of this place.

“Good afternoon,” Ollivander’s soft voice said suddenly.

Even knowing that he’d do that, Ginny still jumped. Tom whirled to face him, eyes wide. The professor looked pleasantly amused.

The man loomed over them both, watching with wide, pale eyes.

“Um, hello,” Ginny greeted, nervously.

“We’re here for wands,” said Tom, flatly.

“Why else would you be here?” Ollivander replied, “Now, who might you two be?”

“I’m Ginny, er, Virginia Griffiths, and this is Tom Riddle.”

He inclined his head, “Good to meet you.”

He spotted Professor Dumbledore on the chair behind them, “Ah, Albus, so good to see you.”

“And you as well, Garrick.”

“Alder, twelve inches, wasn’t it? An unusual wood, that one.”

“Indeed. It’s a magnificent wand that is serving me well.”

“Good, good.”

He turned his silvery eyes back two the duo. “Which of you would like to go first?”

“I will,” Tom said immediately. Ginny smiled at his eagerness.

“Which is your wand arm?” he asked, pulling out a long, silver marked tape measure.

Tom blinked. “Um, I’m right handed.”

“Hold out your arm.” He proceeded to measure Tom from shoulder to finger, wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, and on and on. The tape measure began measuring by itself. Mr Ollivander himself wandered over to the shelves and began pulling down wand boxes.

“All Ollivander wands have a core of a powerful magical substance. We use unicorn hairs, the heartstrings of dragons, and phoenix tailfeathers. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just like no two dragons, unicorns, or phoenixes are the same.”

He dismissed the tape measure, which dropped to the ground unceremoniously, before bringing over a wand in a box. “Now, Mr Riddle, try this. Cypress and unicorn hair, nine inches. Give it a wave, there’s a lad.”

Tom waved the wand intently, but Ollivander snatched the wand out of his hand immediately.

This process went on for some time, with Ollivander giving Tom a new wand to try, and snatching it back half a moment later, muttering to himself.

This was expected, although Ginny hadn’t had near this much trouble when she’d gotten her wand the first time.

It had been nearly half an hour.

Her attention was grabbed back by a flash of sparks. Tom was beaming at the wand in his hand.

“Yew and phoenix feather, thirteen and a half inches,” Ollivander said, smiling. Tom was clutching the wand reverently.

“You keep a hold of that then,” Ollivander said, and turned to Ginny, tape measure once more in hand.

The process repeated, lasting a solid ten minutes. She was curious as to what wand she would end up with.

“Try this, yew and dragon heartstring, eleven and three quarter inches.”

Warmth flooded her hand and a bright glow emitted from the tip of the wand. This was _her wand_. And not just because it had claimed her, this was the wand she’d owned for _years_. Just how far in advance did Ollivander make these?

After they’d paid for their wands, Ollivander turned to Professor Dumbledore, “Tell Fawkes he should be pleased, Tom here has a tail feather in his wand.”

The professor smiled and nodded, “I shall. Have a good day, Garrick.”

The very last thing they bought were trunks to store their things, but compared to the rush of getting their wands it was positively boring.

They were back at the entrance to Wools Orphanage far too soon.

“Here we are then,” Professor Dumbledore began, pulling out two envelopes, “Now, here are your tickets to the Hogwarts Express. Look for Platform 9 ¾ at Kings Cross Station. The school term starts on the first of September.

“Yes, sir, thank you,” Ginny said, accepting their envelopes.

Tom nodded and smiled, “Thank you, professor.”

From Tom that was practically an endorsement.

“I shall see you at Hogwarts.”

They dragged their trunks into their room, letting Sarah know that they were back along the way.

With their door safely shut behind them, they practically burst with excitement, Tom’s face breaking into a huge grin and Ginny nearly squealing. It was finally, _finally_ happening. In just a few short months, she’d be back in familiar territory, back at Hogwarts.

They weren’t allowed to cast any spells yet, but they had their wands, and the rush of magic hadn’t left them yet.

“It’s real, it’s really real!” Tom said in a rush, “I mean, I knew it was real, it’s just-”

“Having a weird wizard show up at your door saying you’re going to magic school is a bit more solid than having your friend just talk about it?”

“Yes, that,” Tom said, smiling. He opened his trunk and pulled out a spellbook, running his hands across the hard cover in awe before opening it.

They may not be allowed to cast anything just yet, but Hogwarts was just around the corner.


	11. Chapter 11

September arrived in a flash. Tom had spent the past two months practically memorising his textbooks, and Ginny had had to remind him several times that he wasn't allowed to use his wand outside of school. This hadn't stopped him from practising wand motions, staring at it longingly, and just generally holding it, however. Ginny herself had skimmed the spell-books, re-familiarising herself with the basics.

She had also tried to read her new book, Mysteries of the Unspeakable, and discover more about the Veil, but it was difficult with Tom being practically glued to her. He was intensely curious and would absolutely ask questions she couldn't really answer. She'd have the opportunity to read it without Tom looking over her shoulder once they were at Hogwarts.

She had told him all about the Hogwarts Houses and the Sorting Hat. Tom was certain he'd be a Ravenclaw, but Ginny wasn't so sure about that. She wasn't about to burst his bubble though. She also wasn't quite sure what House _she_ would end up in this time around.

Although Tom was very vocal about them _both_ being clever enough for Ravenclaw, there was no real doubt in either of their minds that they were going to end up in different Houses. The thought loomed in the back of their minds like a dark cloud, even as Ginny saw the advantage of it, at least for her.

She didn't really want to leave her friend alone in a common room filled with strangers who would look down on him simply for not being raised in the wizarding world, without even any brothers to back him up when things got tough. There wasn't much she could do about that though, other than make damn sure she hung around as much as possible, and let him know their friendship would remain intact even if they were in different Houses.

They were excited to go nonetheless. Their trunks had been packed and ready to go for days now, and the Matron already knew that they would be leaving today. They weren't really friends with any of the other kids, but even if they were, there had been an announcement at dinner yesterday about their departure. So, after Tom and Ginny got ready for the day, they simply wheeled their trunks out.

They were halfway down the hall that led out of the building when they saw Sarah blocking the path, hands on her hips and glowering at them.

"Were you two really going to just leave without saying goodbye?" she demanded.

They gaped for a moment, but before either could muster a reply, the older girl grabbed Ginny in a tight embrace, "I'm gonna miss you, you little firecracker."

She was let go as swiftly and suddenly as she was grabbed. To her side, Tom was getting twitchy.

Sarah placed her hands on his shoulders and crouched to his level. She was tall enough that her eyes were almost level with his even while squatting. "You're a good kid, Tom. You're gonna knock em dead." Tom stood there, waiting and still, unsure how to reply.

The girl pulled him in for a hug. His arms flapped uselessly before just resting on her back. "I'm proud of you, Tom."

Tom still didn't reply. He couldn't. He clutched at the back of her dress desperately.

Sarah waited until his grip relaxed, then let go and stood up.

"Be safe in that new school, you hear? Stay out of trouble, and learn lots. Virginia, that goes double for you."

"Yes, ma'am."

Sarah smiled and nodded, and then left. Ginny picked her trunk handle back up and started walking again, then noticed that Tom hadn't moved. She looked at him, curiously.

"Are you alright?" Ginny asked after a moment.

"Yeah," he replied, shaking his head. He picked up his trunk and carried on.

They hitched a ride on a carriage to Kings Cross Station. Being on an actual carriage led by horses was quite the novelty for them both, albeit for different reasons.

Kings Cross Station was as crowded as ever, which was to be expected, it was the main station in all of London. Ginny led the way over to where their platform would be.

Tom stopped as they approached platform 9. "Ginny, there is no platform 9 ¾." he looked again, peering at the signs for platforms nine and ten.

"Well its a magical platform isn't it? They don't want muggles just stumbling across it."

Tom frowned, looking at the signs again. Then he noticed the archways between the platforms. Ginny grinned at him, and walked straight through the wall between platforms.

She waited on the other side for a little bit. Either he'd follow or she'd have to go back and explain properly. She wished she could see the look on his face.

Moments later, Tom showed up. "That was amazing," he said, his eyes still wide. "How did you know where it was?"

"My parents, remember?"

Tom's mouth twisted, "You would think Dumbledore would have given instructions."

Ginny shrugged.

Platform 9 ¾ was crowded with parents and children alike, all bustling around and chattering, saying their goodbyes and trying to get the students actually onto the train.

Ginny and Tom boarded with little issue, having no one to say their goodbyes to and no friends to meet up with. Hopefully that would change, and they'd meet some fellow first years. Maybe Ginny's first year would actually be alright this time.

As they pushed their trunks under the seats and settled into the empty compartment, Ginny was hit with just how much she missed her family. It'd been a long time ago now, but any other school year her mum and dad would be waving from outside the train window. They'd have hugged her and said a teary goodbye and promised to write.

She wondered if she'd see Professor McGonagall or another of her former teachers as students. It'd be really weird seeing them as kids, but cool too. Would they remember her, in the future, if she met them?

Would that mess things up? But, if she was going to mess things up in the timeline, she would have done so already by befriending Tom.

She was pretty sure that he wouldn't end up making an evil murdering diary this time around. Unless… What if he did anyway? Or somehow she was _why_ he did so? What if this was all some big loop in time and nothing she did changed anything?

That was a seriously frightening thought. She didn't want to be the cause of anyone suffering at the hands of the Basilisk, let alone the cause of her _own_ trauma. She didn't want Tom to end up like _that_ either. Whilst all she wanted really was to get home and becoming Tom's friend had been more of a coincidence than anything, she did want to try and prevent that whole thing if she could.

But how could she? It _had_ happened to her, so if she tried to prevent it, it would never have happened to her and so she would never try to stop it. Gah, her head hurt just thinking about it.

"Its weird," Tom said suddenly, just as the train started moving, "I would have thought that we'd get to Hogwarts magically, but this is just a normal train. It's hidden by magic, but its still a train."

"It's powered by magic. The Hogwarts Express doesn't use any coal or anything, its enchanted."

"Really? How does that work?"

"I… have no idea, actually."

Luna might have. Even if she didn't know how it _actually_ worked, she would certainly have some kind of conspiracy about the secret dark history of the train and how it ran on the left pinkies of baby Hinkypunks or something. Neville would be beside her, listening as he held a new plant on his lap.

Instead, sitting across from her, she had Tom. Tom who at the same time was and was certainly not the same person who had violated her mind and possessed her body.

Tom who's icy blue eyes were watching her with the kind of warmth that he hadn't been capable of when she'd first met him.

They sat in comfortable silence as the hills and plains rolled by, until finally a teenaged student already in uniform stopped by to tell them to change into their robes. They'd be arriving soon.

* * *

They exited the train following the throng of students. It was dark by the time they arrived, the path up to the castle looming ahead. Ginny consciously stopped herself from following the older students up those stairs. She was a first year now, she reminded herself.

"First years!" called an unfamiliar voice, "This way please, first years!"

A lantern hung from a very tall staff that was held by a tall, skinny man with dark hair tied at the nape of his neck, and a hawkish look to his face. "All first years!" he called.

Once they had all gathered around him he told them to follow, and walked up the stairs, turning off at the path towards the lake.

The lake at night was gorgeous, a shimmering inky expanse reflecting the lights of the distant castle like stars. Awed ooh's and aah's sounded around them.

They were all ushered into small boats, four to a boat. Ginny and Tom took one, along with two other students.

The boat ride was magical, in both senses of the word. The castle loomed overhead, huge and magnificent, light pouring from the windows and towers reaching for the sky.

The two newcomers gasped at the sight. Tom simply stared, wide-eyed.

Stepping foot into the castle was still awe-inspiring, despite its familiarity. It was almost like deja-vu, a feeling Ginny had a suspicion would become very common for a while.

All of the new first year students were led into the small side chamber that opened to the Great Hall. Time passed very slowly for a large group of eleven year olds who were left with nothing to do but mill about in suspense.

Tom yelped in surprise, and several others screamed suddenly as ghosts poured into the room.

"Ghosts are real?!" Tom hissed at Ginny.

Ginny only had time to nod before the doors opened and an old woman with kind eyes stood before them all.

"Welcome, students, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Professor Merrythought. In a few moments, you will pass through these doors to the Great Hall, where you will be Sorted into your Houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.

The process is simple, I will call your name, you will come and sit on the stool, I will place the Sorting Hat on your head, it will call out your new House and you will go sit with your new classmates. Does everyone understand?"

Nods and calls of agreement flooded the room.

The woman smiled and opened the doors, leading the way in.

Walking into the Great Hall, Ginny didn't even need to try to look appropriately awed, and Tom looked like his jaw might fall off as he stared up at the starry sky.

Professor Merrythought positioned herself next to the Hat and pulled out a long scroll. The Sorting Hat itself looked exactly as ragged as it always did.

And, like it always did, it sang.

Tom was completely boggled, as were about half of the other first years. The other half of them seemed delighted about a singing hat.

Professor Merrythought started calling out names. While she and Tom waited for their names to be called, Ginny looked up to the teachers panel.

The only person there that she recognised was Professor Dumbledore, who was sitting in the seat left of the Headmaster's chair. Said chair was filled with an old short-bearded man with shoulder length white hair and a serious expression.

Among their professors was a man with a metal arm, a very round middle-aged man, and a fidgety looking young-ish woman.

"Griffiths, Virginia!"

Ginny didn't hesitate at that name anymore, she'd owned it long enough, but it was still weird. She walked up to the stool and sat, and let the Hat slip over her eyes.

'Oh, aren't you interesting,' the Sorting Hat's not-voice echoed through her mind.

Interesting? What did _that_ mean? She sat stiff on the stool, alarmed at what the Hat could see. It wouldn't tell anyone, right? She could _not_ afford to spend her life in Saint Mungos.

It didn't say anything else.

"GRYFFINDOR!" it shouted aloud.

She hopped off the stool and wandered over to the long table of clapping students.

She watched the rest of the Sorting rather detachedly, making polite small talk when another kid started chatting to her.

"Riddle, Tom!"

Her head whipped over to watch him, her gaze meeting Tom's just as the Hat slipped over his eyes.

"Do you know him?" asked the girl, Enid, she'd said her name was.

"He's my friend," Ginny replied, "We're from the same orphanage."

"Oh, you're an orphan? What's that like?"

"Dreadful, thanks."

The Hat was taking a surprising amount of time Sorting him.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Tom took the Hat off his head and started for the Slytherin table. Ginny grinned brightly at him and waved. He waved back, though if he smiled she couldn't see it from here.

"I knew it. He's probably disappointed though, he was hoping we'd both end up in Ravenclaw," Ginny said to Enid.

Enid looked back over at her, surprised, "How'd you know about the Houses? My ma and pa wouldn't tell me anything. Wait, you're an orphan, how'd you even know about Hogwarts?"

"People aren't always orphaned when they're babies, you know."

Enid frowned. "Oh. Does that mean your parents were wizards?"

"No, they were muggles who just happened to have exact knowledge about Hogwarts Houses," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. Some people didn't seem to understand tact.

Enid grumbled, "No need to be mean."

The last of the students were Sorted and the feast appeared in front of them. Ginny hadn't had such flavourful food in years. Orphanage food was warm and filling, but didn't taste very good.

After everyone had eaten, the prefects guided everyone to their common rooms. Tom waved to her as their groups passed each other on the way out.

She followed the prefect easily and listened with half an ear to his explanations about the castle and the dorms, and headed up to bed as soon as possible. A few other Gryffindors did the same, but most decided to hang around the common room for a while longer.

She climbed the stairs to the first year girls dorm. Her trunk was already at the foot of one of the beautiful and huge four poster beds, so she changed into her pyjamas and climbed in.

She closed the curtains around the bed and lied there, staring at the ceiling. It was strange now, to be in a bed so large, to be alone to sleep. For all that the room had more people in it, the beds offered a private space all of their own. It was nice to have that again, even if it felt weird. It had felt weird the first time around too.

She lied there for hours.

No matter how soft and comfortable the bed, however, sleep would not come. She wasn't even anxious, she just felt lonely.

She hopped out of bed and rummaged through her trunk until she found what she was looking for. Mysteries of the Unspeakable. As she pulled the book out of her trunk, something fell out. She picked it up, it was her second-hand, stolen doll. The first gift Tom had given her. She took both it and her book and climbed back into bed.

The book had an entire chapter dedicated to an artefact it called the Archway of Lost Souls.

'Those who have seen the face of Death and understood it will hear the calls of the dead, whispering and calling to join them.

Those who know of the arch believe that those who pass through the arch will too die. However, there is evidence that this is not necessarily the case.

There are seven known cases of witches and wizards succumbing to this call and leaping through the archway. Of these, precisely one has returned; Jonah Pristish.

Jonah wrote extensively on his experiences through the arch in his autobiography 'Into The Void and other Pristisms'. One extremely important fact listed in his book is that he allegedly fell into another world, but had a different name there.

From this we can easily see the conclusion that many people are not truly from this world, but are in fact doppelgangers from other dimensions gathering information for their inevitable invasion.'

It dissolved into further ridiculousness from there. Ginny skimmed the rest of the chapter looking for some useful reference for how to get home, or where she was, or what the hell was up with having a different name, but there was nothing. She would have to find this Jonah's book. Hopefully there was a copy in the restricted section.

She shoved the book under her covers so no one would see it, and lay back down, plotting how to break in and search the restricted section without getting detention for a year or expelled.

Clutching the soft doll, she eventually managed to drift into uneasy unconsciousness.

* * *

Down in the Slytherin dorm, Tom was having his own restless night, although rather than being simply lonely and overwhelmed, his mind was also whirling with both possibility and nervous energy.

He was unable to calm himself down, not that he really tried at all, and instead decided to look through his text-books again. He knew, consciously, that he wouldn't be expected to know everything on his first day, but he _needed_ to make a good impression. He was already practised in magic, and the professors _had_ to see that.

He and Ginny both _had_ to be ahead of the students born to muggle parents, who didn't know anything of magic, and definitely hadn't actively practised like Tom had.

It felt cold in the room, even with the curtains shut around his bed. The actual temperature was pleasantly cool, just brisk enough that bundling up under the covers would be terribly nice. But somehow the gentle coldness only reminded him of nights spent huddled and freezing next to his best friend.

Perhaps he was lonely.

Perhaps he needed to show someone, anyone, that he was worth something. That he could be great. That throwing him away was _their_ mistake.

Sarah had said she was proud of him. In the moment it had meant the world, but now all he could think was that she only said it as he was leaving. She could have said something at _any other time in his entire life_! He'd lived in that orphanage since his _birth_!

But, he could prove himself. He was here now, at the mythical Hogwarts. He'd never doubted it's existence, not for a moment, but being here was something else entirely. The place _hummed_ in his bones.

He abandoned the text-book. He'd re-read the same page about four times now, so that wasn't happening. He crawled out of his bed, leaving the curtains closed to keep in the warmth, and headed out to the common room.

The entire back wall was glass, leaving a clear view of the dark bottom of the lake, moonlight gently leaking through from the surface in ripples. A few fish swam by occasionally. He couldn't see the lake floor.

Oddly, the glass wasn't cold when he put his hand on it. Surely the heat would be lost though this wall, even if it wasn't glass? And for that matter, what would happen if the glass cracked? Wasn't this a serious flood risk?

Surely they wouldn't be so stupid as to leave a fragile structure in the dorm room as a bunch of children? It had to be somehow reinforced.

He looked around the room, and picked up a ceramic ornament from on top of the fireplace. He threw it with all his might at the glass.

It bounced off, making a slight clacking sound.

Yep. It was reinforced.

He turned back and headed to bed, finally tired enough to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took forever, it fought me every step of the way.

Even underground, in a dungeon under a lake, Tom still rose with the sun. It was odd for him, waking up alone. Sure, the dorm was technically full of other first year boys, but each bed was separate, closed off, in a way that his bedroom at the orphanage just wasn’t.

It was still cold.

There wasn’t much to do in the Common Room when no one else was awake. There were a couple of books, a few ornaments he could play around with, but it was clear the room was intended to be filled with people. Tom didn’t like that thought very much.

He skimmed through the books, various tomes on potions and dragons and jinxes that should have all been interesting, but that the authors somehow managed to make very boring. He wasn’t feeling up to studying before his first school day even began anyway.

He felt lost. He quickly shoved that thought to the back of his head. He had spent far too long trying to get away from that hellhole of an orphanage to miss it now. He shoved that thought back too.

It was very early, but maybe they’d be serving breakfast anyway. He couldn’t be the only early riser in the school.

He was heading down a hallway that intersected on at least five sides when he spotted a very familiar head of red hair.

She was clutching something and rushing, not quite running.

“Ginny?” he called.

She stopped, startled, and whirled  around to  face him. She was clutching a book to her chest.

“Tom!” she said, relaxing as she spotted him and jogging over, “Did you sleep alright?”

“My room is too cold,” he said simply, shrugging.

Her eyes softened in sympathy. She understood, the cold bothered her too.

“What are you reading?” he asked, trying to get a glimpse of her book. ‘Into The Void-’.

She snatched the book away before he managed to read the rest of the title, looking alarmed, then she visibly forced herself to relax.

That was… strange.

“Nothing, its just a biography. Boring stuff,” she said, almost offhandedly, “Are you heading to the Great Hall? I’m pretty sure they’ll be serving breakfast by now.”

Why didn’t she want him seeing that book? It was the same way she was with the book she bought in Flourish and Blotts, always snapping it shut and hiding it when he came over, never taking it out or trying to read it when he was near.

What he couldn’t figure was why. What could she possibly be looking up? He’d lived with her since they were six, if she had found out something he would know too.

Unless this was something to do with her family.

She’d known about Hogwarts and magic from the beginning because her family had gone here, her real family, she’d said, not that horrible woman who’d dumped her in the orphanage.

If this _was_ something about them, he could find out. He could help her. He could _share_ in these secrets. Surely the school had records of former students?

He smiled at her, “Yeah, I am. Want to come with me?”

“Uh,” she said, blinking in surprise at his sudden attitude shift, “Sure. Just let me put this in my trunk, I don’t want to get food on a library book.”

Tom nodded in agreement, “I’ll follow you. I’ll get lost if I don’t.”

Ginny opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again, “Alright. But I don’t think I should let you into the Common Room, I’m not sure if that’s allowed.”

They started the walk towards the Gryffindor tower.

“How are the other Slytherins treating you?” Ginny asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“I haven’t spoken to them yet.”

Ginny grinned, “That sounds about right.”

He smirked at her, “It’s not my fault if you’re the only interesting person I’ve met.”

Ginny’s cheeks went oddly red at that.

“Right. We’re here,” she said as they came to a stop right in front of a very large portrait of a very large woman.

“You better cover your ears,” she said to him.

He put his hands over his ears, and watched as she said the password that made the wall behind the portrait swing open like a door.

She climbed through.

Having your hands over your ears didn’t block everything, especially when a room was otherwise quiet.

* * *

They separated when they got to the Great Hall, Ginny insisting that he actually _try_ to talk to his new Housemates at least once. 

He watched her bounce over to the Gryffindor table, wondering why they couldn’t have been Sorted into the same House. They should have both been Ravenclaws.

He set his shoulders and headed over to the Slytherin table. There weren’t very many students, it was still early, but he found himself sitting on the outskirts of a  trio of other first years.

“I’m most excited about Potions!” he overheard one of the boys saying.

“Are you kidding? Quidditch matches are going to be _far_ more entertaining than any schoolwork,” said the girl.

“I just want to explore, my dad says there are all kinds of secret passageways hidden around the school,” said the other boy.

The first, dark haired boy turned to Tom, “What about you?”

Tom startled at being included in their conversation. He hadn’t thought he was close enough for that.

He considered, “Charms seems the most practical, but Transfiguration is the most interesting.”

The boy grinned, “Actually Transfiguration can be much more useful than it seems at first, my mum-”

“Ugh, great,” interrupted the girl, rolling her eyes, a teasing smile playing about her mouth, “Another one.”

“C’mon, Druella. It might not be interesting to us, but we have to have _someone_ to mooch homework off of,” said the blond boy.

Tom bristled. He was  _not_ going to do other people’s homework. “If you can’t be bothered to pay attention in class I hardly see how that’s my problem,” he said, calmly.

“Oh look! A stuck-up snob!” Druella cooed.

“Oh look, a bratty moron,” Tom replied, deadpan. Between his inexpressive face and unwavering eye contact, he was sure he struck an unsettling image. He was pretty proud of that.

The girl scoffed, “Between your bad attitude, your obviously muggle name, and your face not working right, you’re not going to make any friends at all.”

“I don’t need friends.”

The dark haired boy muttered under his breath, “That’s obvious.”

Tom turned his stare on him. The boy met his eyes easily.

Tom’s temper flared, rushing hot through him, but he bit it down. There was something more important here, he realised. The same thing that was making him so mad.

These people weren’t intimidated by him at all. Despite carrying himself like a stone wall, despite his unfriendliness, despite the vitriol that poured off him in waves, these kids weren’t scared. They didn’t even blink.

They didn’t think for a heartbeat that he could hurt them.

He had no reputation here,  neither good nor bad nor… anything.

He was nobody. 

He was nothing.

  
  


The thought dragged behind him throughout his morning, nipping at his heels and lurking behind corners.

“Mr Riddle.”

As ugly as the thought felt, at least at Wools he had some semblance of respect, of power. There, everyone knew him, everyone was wary of him. Being feared felt so much better than being ignored.

“Mr Riddle!”

Tom blinked up at the slight, fidgety woman frowning down at him. He couldn’t remember her name.

“Yes, Professor?” he asked.

“Mr Riddle, please demonstrate Colovaria. I trust you’ve been paying attention?” she raised an eyebrow at him.

He was very glad that he’d already read through his spellbooks a few times. Colovaria, he remembered, was the colour-change spell. Simple for him, he’d already been doing this one wandlessly.

It occurred to Tom then that  even  if he couldn’t impress his classmates, he could  _absolutely_ impress his teachers. He was clever, and had already been  practicing magic. He was better than everyone here and these people should know it.

He aimed his wand at the plain grey paperweight on his desk, and changed it to a scintillating yellow that blended into orange at the bottom, looking like a sunset.

“Well done, Mr Riddle!” the Professor exclaimed, looking both pleased and surprised, “Five points to Slytherin.”

Tom smiled.

* * *

The next class wasn’t until after lunch, so while all his classmates ran off to play, Tom made his way to the library.

The library itself was  _huge_ , towering bookshelves formed alleys against the walls, each almost overflowing with all manner of books on every subject, each unique. There were hardcovers, leather covers, gold lettering, no lettering, even fur bound, and he was pretty sure one growled at him. The selection put Flourish and Blotts to shame.

What didn’t fit on the shelves was piled high on tables, some so tall and unbalanced they should have fallen over. Between the shelves were overstuffed plush chairs covered in soft, fluffy cushions, clearly intended for long hours of reading.

But he wasn’t here for the books. With a heavy heart and a promise to come back later and dig up its secrets, Tom walked up to the librarian.

The bespectacled man was seated behind a high desk made of dark wood, writing on a sheet of parchment with a plumed quill.

“Excuse me, sir,” Tom said. His head barely cleared the height of the desk, surely that was intentional, to give the librarian a sense of superiority. He’d like a desk like that one day. Or maybe it was just to keep a better watch over the frankly enormous room.

The man didn’t hear him.

“Excuse me,” Tom repeated, louder. If he got in trouble for yelling in the library after this he was going to-

“Yes, how can I help you?” the man asked, peering down at him.

“I’m looking for records of past students.”

“Whatever do you need those for?”

Tom  didn’t respond to that .

“Children have no respect these days,” the man grumbled under his breath before continuing in a normal voice, “Student records are kept with the senior staff, I suggest you speak with Professor Dumbledore, the Deputy Headmaster.”

Dumbledore again. Fine.

“How may I find his office?”

* * *

Dumbedore’s office was weird. The auburn bearded man sat behind a normal wooden desk, stacked with normal paperwork, and about four strange, beeping, blooping, bubbling gadgets. One was literally blowing bubbles into the air.

Tom didn’t like Dumbledore, or more precisely he was wary of him. The trip to Diagon Alley was fine, and he had proved a decent hand at supervising without being overbearing. But Tom couldn’t exactly forget that the man had not even hesitated to set his closet on fire at the first sign of ‘misbehaviour’, even if it was just a trick meant to scare  them .

He hesitated in the doorway, having second thoughts about this.

“Ah, Tom, it’s good to see you,” Dumbledore called out, “Come in.”

Tom walked in. There was a chair right across from Dumbledore, it looked comfortable, inviting even. He didn’t want to sit down.

Dumbledore held up a small glass bowl of  hard black and white striped sweets, “ Would you like a humbug ?”

“No, thank you.”

Dumbledore put the bowl down. “Are you settling in alright?”

“I am, Professor. Thank you.”

“You and your classmates are getting along?”

“Yes, Professor,” Tom lied. He swallowed nervously, why couldn’t he just ask what he wanted to ask? Why was this so hard?

“What can I do for you?” Dumbledore asked.

“I want to see the school records from the last couple of generations.”

“There are an awful lot of things that count as school records. May I ask what you’re looking for?”

“Ginny’s parents attended Hogwarts. I want to look for them, their grades, pictures of them, maybe one of them won an award.”

“Helping out your friend is a good cause, Tom. I might be able to help you.” 

H e waved his wand at a n open trunk overflowing with bound  papers .

A  wall of parchment flew out of the trunk and arranged itself into a neat stack on Dumbledore’s desk.

“Here we are, student attendance, grades, and achievements, from 1907 to 1924,” he said, as he dumped the stack of parchment and leather bound books into Tom’s arms.

Tom wavered from the weight of it, boggling at the size  of  the pile .

“Would you like help sorting through it all, or would you like to do so yourself?” Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling mischievously behind his half-moon glasses.

Tom clutched at the stack and shook his head, he didn’t need anyone’s help. “No, thank you. I can do it.”

He turned to leave. He took two steps, then turned back around. 

“Thank you, Professor.”

Dumbledore smiled, “You’re welcome, Tom.”

The safest place to rummage through a pile of papers and parchment was almost certainly the library, so that’s where he headed, stack held securely in his arms.

It took hours to sift through it all, but Tom was set in his task. He wouldn’t skip classes, but he absolutely would skip both the remainder of his free time and lunch.

In the end, he was greeted with some information he wasn’t sure what to do with: No one named Griffiths had attended Hogwarts in this time frame.

He changed tacks. Perhaps  Ginny had a non-magical  father , and  _he _ was the one named Griffiths. He had no way of knowing what Ginny’s mum’s maiden name was, but he could search for something else  notable. Red hair was passed down through families and was really rare, that was a likely trait to search for.

That didn’t work. There was only one family of red-haired wizards, and there were no Weasley girls.

Perhaps her parents had her when they were older? That was unlikely,  her mum would have to be more than thirty for that, and that was dangerous, or so he’d heard.

Ginny had said she had siblings, perhaps he could get some different records from Dumbledore, although with a  seventeen year range one would think at least the eldest sibling would show up.

It didn’t seem to matter which avenue he looked through, the result was the same.

Ginny was lying about _something_. He just wasn’t quite sure what.


	13. Chapter 13

Ginny didn’t see Tom again after she’d left him at the Great Hall and encouraged him to at least try and make friends. She didn’t see him the entire day after that either. In fact, she hadn’t seen him for three days now. 

She was starting to get concerned. That was a lie, she was already very concerned, this wasn’t like him. Had something happened to him? Had he decided that she wasn’t necessary, now that he was at Hogwarts? Surely not, he was her friend just as much as she was his. Maybe he was wrapped up in his schoolwork, he was the type to dive headfirst into his latest passion and not look up until he was good and ready.

She should honestly just take the time to research her damn books and find a way to get home.

But… she was worried.

And she was lonely.

She was ready to march over to the Slytherin Common Room when she heard a thump.

The other girls were still asleep, but maybe one of the boys fell down the stairs? She left the dorm to check.

There, at the bottom of the stairs leading to the girl’s dormitory, was a boy picking himself up. He must have tried to climb them, not knowing they were enchanted such that boys would slide right back down.

The boy looked up. Ice blue eyes met her own.

“Tom?” Ginny asked, rushing down the stairs to meet him. He was alright, he was safe he… was in the Gryffindor Tower trying to break into her dormitory.

She stopped a few feet away from him. “Tom what are you doing here?”

He smiled at her, “What, I can’t come and see you? I’ve had a busy few days, I missed you.”

His smiled looked all wrong. Ginny narrowed her eyes at him.

“Tom. Why are you here?”

His smile fell instantly, “You don’t believe me. You’re calling _me_ a liar?” His emphasis was… strange.

Ginny clenched her jaw. “I know you, Tom. You were avoiding me on purpose, the Hogwarts schedule isn’t that busy, and now you’re trying to sneak into my dorm. Why?”

He was silent, looking her over like he was analysing her. She felt like an insect under a microscope, which was _stupid_ because she shouldn’t have anything to fear from a damn first year.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I got in?”

She blinked, the sudden change in track putting her off guard.

“I overheard you. That first day, when you let me come with you to the Tower. I overheard the password. I did block my ears, I promise, but it didn’t help that much.”

“I don’t care _how_ you got in,” Ginny growled, “I care about _why,_ and you’re hiding it from me. You’re lying to me. Why are you trying to break into my room?” she demanded, nearly yelling at him.

She felt a flare of magic coil itself around Tom like a spring. She’d felt it a thousand times before when he got mad, and nothing ever became of it. It was just how he was, a loaded spring trap of magic and emotions that he didn’t know what to do with.

But he didn’t yell back. He didn’t even look angry. He looked _cold_. His usual impassivity could be unnerving, but his face wasn’t impassive now, it was hard and contemptuous and _icy_. It was uncomfortably familiar.

A shiver went down her spine. She took a step back.

In that moment, the cold was gone, replaced by _hurt_. The pain and confusion in his eyes was achingly raw, and then it too was gone. His jaw clenched. Then he relaxed, but there was nothing calm about his expression, he just looked… blank.

He turned around and walked away.

“Tom wait, what happened? What’s wrong?” Ginny called out, following him a ways, “Tom!”

He ignored her.

And then he was gone.

* * *

Ginny was utterly confused as to what to make of what happened that morning. It haunted her all through breakfast, where Tom sat at his own table across the room, his back to her.

She didn’t see him at all on her way to class.

Enid chatted to her at lunch. Ginny wasn’t a very good conversation partner.

They passed each other in the hallway to their respective classes. She tried to talk to him. He spared her a single hollow glance, then ignored her.

It was hard to focus on spellwork when you were distracted. Then again, at this point Ginny was less concerned than outright angry. Whatever the _hell_ had gotten into his thick skull this morning was his own damn business and he had no right to take it out on her, especially if he was going to straight up ignore her afterwards. He tried to break into her room without explanation, and then made it all about himself!

Rage is a good fuel for certain spells. It can also backfire.

The Professor put out the fire very quickly, and used her as an example of what _not_ to do. Ginny found she didn’t really care.

She didn’t see him at dinner. She didn’t look.

* * *

She spend the next week head down in her schoolwork and her own research into the Veil of Death. It was coming along nicely, she had a notebook filled with theories and notes. Into the Void was mostly stories and anecdotes of Jonah Pristish’s own journeys through the portal.

And it _was_ a portal. Jonah had successfully travelled across various worlds, each to a different time and place, and in each he lived a different possible life. He was always himself, be he old or young or somewhere in between. Sometimes he was a nobleman, other times an urchin.

Unfortunately, the man himself seemed to have no idea what determined either where or when he would end up. It seemed random, and Jonah had noted that he was risking his life every time he stepped through that portal.

One thing that Ginny noticed, was that the Veil was _always_ located in the same place, no matter what building had sprung up around it.

So, the Veil existed, and it would be in the Department of Mysteries, assuming of course _that_ was in the same place. This was excellent news! But, if she jumped through the Veil now, even assuming she could get in the doors of the Ministry, she would just be dumped somewhere random and have to do this all over again.

Maybe she should just jump in anyway, and then next time she wouldn’t be stuck with Tom Bloody Riddle for five goddamn years. Even as she thought it, the idea clenched painfully in her throat.

Merlin, what was she doing?

She wanted to get home. She _needed_ to get home. But… Once she did, where did that leave Tom? She didn’t want to be one more person who abandoned him, even if he was a little bit scary sometimes. She liked him. He was her friend, even if they weren’t talking right now.

She let her head fall onto the table. She wanted her mum.

* * *

Tom felt like a cauldron boiling over. He was _still_ angry and upset, and avoiding the object of his ire hadn’t helped near as much as he had hoped.

He glared at the half-written parchment of essay in front of him. He couldn’t even concentrate anymore. His quill snapped under his grip, splashing ink all over the parchment. Why the _hell_ did wizards have to write with ink and quill instead of a damn pen like sane people!

He growled and backhanded the ridiculous glass ink pot off the table. It shattered, spilling black ink all over the table and rug beneath him.

The only other student in the Common Room turned at the commotion.

“What?” Tom snapped at him before he could say anything. The student frowned, eyes wide, and walked away.

Tom watched him leave, then turned back to the mess of glass and ink. He would need to clean it up.

He didn’t know any spells that would fix it. He’d have to look it up. Or he could just leave it for someone else to clean up. That would be easier by far.

He looked over at his half finished, ruined essay, sighed, and went to find his spellbooks.

* * *

Just because he was too angry to even look at Ginny right now didn’t mean he was going to let her mystery go.

It occurred to Tom that perhaps breaking into someone’s dormitory shouldn’t be the _very first_ thing to try when you want something of theirs, if only because it ends in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

No, there were other ways to get to that book. At first he considered talking to the girl he’d seen chatting with Ginny a few times, but even if he was confident in his ability to convince her, Ginny would _absolutely_ notice that the book was gone. Which was another problem with immediately trying to steal it.

However, Ginny got that book from the library, and a library would have to be very stupid to stock only a single copy of a book.

The library was not stupid, but there was only one other copy of Into the Void. The book itself, however, was almost nonsensical. Portals to other worlds and times? Possessing different versions of yourself? It all sounded ridiculous.

If Tom was honest with himself, he didn’t know that much about magic, his education was too basic, too new. So he couldn’t say for certain that it was all nonsense. Perhaps this was a field of magic that was simply more obscure.

That all still left the question: Why would Ginny even be interested in this? And why would she try to hide it from him?

* * *

Having two Houses attend the same class was common for larger, more complex lessons, but usually Gryffindor and Slytherin did _not_ share the time slot. There was too much rivalry between the Houses, and it ended up disrupting the lessons more often than not.

Today, however, _was_ teaming up Gryffindor and Slytherin. The class was Defence Against the Dark Arts, a class that Ginny had once considered to be her favourite.

The room was much the same as she remembered, even if it was decorated differently. The Professor, Professor Merrythought, was even teaching a familiar lesson. One about Boggarts.

Ginny payed attention to the lecture with rapturous focus. Sure, she remembered her lessons with Professor Lupin quite clearly, but when dealing with what was basically a fear spirit one couldn’t be too careful.

Either that or she was studiously ignoring a certain Slytherin boy who was boring a hole in the back of her head with his eyes.

The Professor had enlarged the space in what was normally the supplies cupboard, so that each student could face their fears in private. Ginny thought that was a better way than all in the open like Lupin had it. It was all well and good while people were fearing snakes and spiders and other simple things, but some people had encountered horrible monsters, and some had lost family members. Some things should remain private.

Ginny herself wasn’t too sure what her Boggart would be this time. She used to be scared of Merpeople, then the Triwizard Tournament happened and they weren’t so bad after all.

Maybe her Boggart would be the Veil sucking her into another strange place. Maybe it would be never seeing her family again.

Her turn was called. She walked up to the closet, the Professor smiling at her reassuringly, and she walked in.

The door clicked shut behind her.

It was very dark. She walked in further, curious more than anything.

She saw Tom, standing there with his normal, neutral expression. That was ridiculous, Tom was her friend, she hadn’t been truly scared of him in years.

“Ginny!” Tom exclaimed as he spotted her, running towards her, his voice suddenly fearful. Ginny’s heart spiked in her chest. Was this it? Did she fear something happening to Tom? She pulled out her wand.

Then there was a wand pointed right at her face. “Petrificus Totalus.”

It was Tom’s voice. She froze stiff. She stared up at Tom’s familiar pale eyes, they no longer held his usual calm impassivity, but were now cold and hard like they were so long ago. Like they were barely a week ago. His handsome face twisted in a cruel smile.

Ginny's heart pounded in her chest, her breathing almost panicked. He was her friend, he wasn’t- he wouldn’t-

“Fool you once, shame on me. Fool you twice?” he wagged his finger and tutted, “Shame on you, Ginny.”

Tears started streaming down her face as her heart tried to beat out of her chest. She was going to die here. Tom had tricked her the first time with friendship, he was so, so good at pretending. And now he would kill her, finally finish the job.

A small, familiar black book appeared in his raised hand.

She screamed. Then she realised all in a flash, she wasn’t petrified. She could talk, and if she could talk she could move. She shot a bat bogey hex at him to buy time. He flailed, dropping both his wand and the book to swat at the snot bats flying out of his nose. This wasn’t real, this was a Boggart, she could make this funny, she had to make this funny.

She couldn’t make this funny.

She turned and bolted out of the room as fast as her legs would take her, her face wet and her heart pounding. She ran out of the obstacle course and promptly fell to her knees on the grass. She couldn’t get enough air, she was breathing too fast and too hard but she couldn’t get any _air_.

Professor Merrythought rushed over, hands on her shoulders immediately. “Sit properly, dear. There's a girl. Breathe with me. In, and out, in, and out.”

Ginny gasped in time with Merrythought's breaths, trying to focus on the woman, trying to not think about Tom’s cruel, icy eyes.

The professor looked up and over Ginny’s shoulder, “Mr Riddle, could you please escort Miss Griffiths outside?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tom replied. Ginny froze all over again.

“Ginny?” He asked gently, rubbing a hand across her back. Ginny flinched. No, no she couldn’t react like that this was _Tom_, the _real_ Tom, he was her best friend. She turned to face him.

“Please don’t be scared of me, Ginny,” he pleaded, softly, “I wouldn’t ever hurt you, not ever, I promise.”

Ginny swallowed, staring into his worried blue eyes and trying to believe him.

“I hate the thought that you’re scared of me,” he whispered roughly, like it was hard to say the words. Tom always hated showing weakness.

Ginny couldn’t smile reassuringly, she couldn’t say anything, she could still barely breathe. She leaned forwards and tucked her head into his shoulder, clinging to him. He was so warm.

He wrapped his arms around her and gently led her out of the room.


End file.
